I have been thinking a lot about how we began. It’s not an exciting or overly romantic story, but it’s our story, so it makes me happy to think about it.
It was just after Fourth of July weekend, 1979. I was 17, and had just graduated from high school, and would be going off to University of Vermont in the fall. I had a boyfriend that I really liked. He was a swimmer, and over the holiday weekend, he had competed in a state meet that took place at the Air Force base in Rome, NY. I had driven down with him to watch, and had spent the whole weekend in the sun.
It was hot the day I got back, and I had to go to work for a 6p to 4a shift. I was working as a waitress (now called “servers”…so PC!) at Howard Johnson’s. I didn’t have a license yet, so I usually rode my bike to work – about a four mile ride. As I think back now, I don’t know why I wore a bathing suit for the ride, but I did – nothing revealing – just a navy blue Speedo. I pulled jeans on too so I wouldn’t get grease on my shin if bumped the bike chain (strange outfit I know – go figure…).
I rode to work and went inside and down the basement stairs to change into my uniform in the locker room. As I came down the stairs and turned the corner, I was looking straight ahead at some shelves that stuck out into the center of the room. I heard someone on the other side of the shelves, and then he stood up – and there he was. Looking at me from the other side of the shelves – bright blue eyes that stood out even in the dim basement, and shaggy blonde hair (it was after all, still the 70s). We had never met, but he looked awfully happy to see me (now that I think about it, that’s how he would look for a long time to come – awfully happy to see me). I’m pretty sure it was the bathing suit. In fact, I know it was – he remembers looking for something on the bottom shelf, then standing up and seeing the bathing suit and the tan. That was enough for him.
I thought he looked pretty darn interesting myself. I knew everyone that worked there – who was this? I remembered that all the women that worked there were talking about the cute new manager. For a second I thought this must be him. Then he came out from behind the shelves, and I saw he was holding the letters for the sign out front. Damn – that was a dishwasher’s job, and there was no way I was hooking up with a dishwasher. He introduced himself – Kirk somebody with a funny last name. I said hello and went to change. Too bad he’s a dishwasher, I thought – he’s cute. What a little snot I was.
I went upstairs, and sure enough, he washed dishes all night. He was friendly, I was cool. He offered me a ride home, but I said no thanks – my boyfriend was coming to pick me up.
The next day, I rode in again, and there he was – in a tie. Well now – this was a different story. Turns out he was washing dishes because all managers had to do all the jobs at some point. Throughout the night, we laughed and flirted. He asked about my boyfriend, and said he had seen him the night before – why was I going out with someone so unattractive? I laughed – my boyfriend was anything but unattractive. All night, Kirk told me how ugly the guy was. Probably stupid too, he said.
Over the next two weeks, we worked together a lot. When I finally accepted that ride home, there were golf clubs in the front seat. He opened the door and instructed me to climb in back – he informed me that the clubs took priority over any girl (typical Kirk humor). Once we debated that, and the golf clubs were settled in back where they belonged, I got in the front and realized there was a rubber glow-in-the-dark brain on the dash. No fuzzy dice for this guy – heaven forbid he be predictable.
At one point, I remember we were laughing, and he told me I was amazing. I’ll never forget that. “Amazing” is a common slang term now, but it was a word no one used back then. I couldn’t figure out what he meant. I worried – “is he mocking me out?” I kept asking him what he meant. He just told me it meant what it meant – he thought I was amazing. I really liked him.
It was getting to be decision time. I had a boyfriend, but he and I had never discussed the rules – were we exclusive? I had wanted to be, but hadn’t had the courage to bring it up. He didn’t see anyone else that I knew of, but didn’t bring it up either. We were both going to college that fall in the same area – me at UVM, him at SUNY Plattsburgh. It was all planned – we would see each other on weekends. Should I stay committed to someone even thought he hadn’t made a commitment to me (seems silly now – how much commitment should a 17 year old want!)? Or should I assume I was free to date Kirk also, which I really wanted to do?
The next night at work, Kirk told me straight out he wanted to go on a real date. Not to the movies, or to eat, or anything ordinary – not for him. No, he wanted me to go Niagara Falls with him. I don’t know why - I think he was just trying to be different. He wanted to go the next day, and he pestered me about it all night. I was supposed to go see George Carlin that night with the boyfriend. I ditched him and went to the Falls instead. Best decision of my life.
We drove up and did all the dumb touristy stuff – the wax museums, Ripley’s Believe It or Not. We held hands. We went over to the Falls and walked all around. It was late by then and the lights were on in the water. A few times, we stopped to look at the Falls and just stood quietly – he had his arm around me, and at one point he kissed the top of my head. Months later, he told me that when he did that, it was because he knew at that very moment that he loved me. He always remembered that exact spot, and throughout our whole marriage, any visit to Niagara Falls included him taking me to stand in that spot – the spot where he fell in love with me. He kissed my head every time.
On the way home, we were quiet – relaxed and easy with each other. He walked me to the door and kissed me again – not on the head. Let’s just say it was a long time before I went in the house. Boyfriend – what boyfriend?
I ditched the boyfriend the next day. Kirk and I spent every waking moment together – we worked the same schedule (the perks of dating your boss!) and were together before and after work. I met his parents and they were nice to me (thank you Mom and Dad W.!)
After about a month, I told him I really liked him, but I had no idea what his last name was – I’d been mumbling it every time I had to say it. We had a pronunciation lesson. I believe that was the same night I told him I was only 17. I had lied about my age to get my job, because you had to be 18 to serve liquor. Back then you didn't have to show proof of age when you were hired - they just believed you. He had of course assumed I was 18, and the news that I was underage was a bit of a shock. That was my first lesson in the ethics of Kirk. His motto was “do the right thing” – how many of you have heard him say it? He told me that we had to tell the General Manager. The next day, we did. I got chewed out – he was pretty horrified at the fact that he could have lost the liquor license – but I didn’t get fired. I stuck to serving ice cream after that.
Soon it was time for me to leave for college. Needless to say, we decided we wanted to stay together. But that’s Chapter 2, and I’ll leave it for another day.
He was the best boyfriend I ever had.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Toothpaste Spatters and Unwashed Sheets
Today one of the neighbors told me she's having a garage sale - did I need to get rid of anything? I know she didn't mean Kirk's things - she was just being helpful. But just the question made me freeze. NO - I do not want to get rid of anything. I want it all just like it was when he was here.
His laundry is still in the hamper.
His toothpaste and shaving cream spatters are still on his mirror (he was messy - there's LOTS).
His soap is still in the shower (How long does it take an untouched bar of soap to disappear? Answer - just over 3 months; it was new and now it's a small sliver).
His shampoo bottle is in the shower too.
His sneakers are under the desk right where he left them.
His magazines are waiting for him in the bathroom.
His clothes are still in the closet and the drawers.
I had his ring resized and now I wear it - I traded with him so he has mine with him. We never exchanged rings when we got married - it seemed like the right time now.
I store every card, note, piece of jewelry he gave me, and photo with him in it in the bathroom that is the tornado shelter, so there is minimal risk of losing them.
All the food he had in the freezer that I don't like and will never ever eat (venison, scallops, etc.) is still there.
The wine and beer I will not drink is untouched.
Every piece of paper I find with his handwriting gets saved - phone numbers on the backs of envelopes, grocery lists on paper scraps - all of it.
His voice is on the voice mail so I can hear him when I need to.
I'm even saving odds and ends that I always threw away before - lighters, pennies, old pens. They have no connection to him - they are just things that I find in my car, or an old purse, or the junk drawer. The only connection is that he would have kept them. So I do too.
Weirdest of all, I have still not changed the sheets. Why? I keep thinking I will smell him. I want so much to lie in our bed and be surrounded by him. I sleep on his side now, and have since the very first night. The mattress pillowtop is more worn down on his side, and I get a backache from sleeping there, but I don't care. I even took his favorite (clean) fishing shirt and put it on my pillow as a pillow case. I bury my face in the pillows, the covers, and breathe deep - hoping for just a little of him. It isn't there - it wasn't even there the first night. Still, I don't give up hope. I inhale every time I turn over or adjust the covers - maybe this is the time I will smell him. It doesn't happen, but I keep hoping. The sheets are feeling pretty yucky, but they are the ones he last slept on. Embarassing as it is, I'm just not ready to wash him away.
Next to his ring and pictures of him, my favorite thing of all is the shirt he wore the night before the accident - a white golf shirt. He made spaghetti that night, as evidenced by the sauce drips on the front of the shirt. The night of the accident, one of my neighbors went into our closet and found it for me - probably in the top of his hamper. She knew I needed something to hold on to, and brought it to me without my asking. It was the best thing anyone could have done. It DOES smell like him, and also, it has tiny hair clippings inside the neck - he got a haircut that day. I slept in it for the first several nights, but then I got worried it would lose his smell and take on mine instead, and that the hair clippings would get brushed off. Now I keep it in a drawer all by itself, and take it out and put my face in it when I need a fix.
I know this all sounds sad and depressing, but for me it's not. The sad and depressing is that he's gone - keeping all his things the same gives me comfort. I like the toothpaste, the scribbled notes, the kitchen just the way he left it.
So I dragged out a bunch of my stuff I don't need and sent it over for the garage sale. Nothing of his. I go on vacation next week - I'll think about the sheets when I get back...
His laundry is still in the hamper.
His toothpaste and shaving cream spatters are still on his mirror (he was messy - there's LOTS).
His soap is still in the shower (How long does it take an untouched bar of soap to disappear? Answer - just over 3 months; it was new and now it's a small sliver).
His shampoo bottle is in the shower too.
His sneakers are under the desk right where he left them.
His magazines are waiting for him in the bathroom.
His clothes are still in the closet and the drawers.
I had his ring resized and now I wear it - I traded with him so he has mine with him. We never exchanged rings when we got married - it seemed like the right time now.
I store every card, note, piece of jewelry he gave me, and photo with him in it in the bathroom that is the tornado shelter, so there is minimal risk of losing them.
All the food he had in the freezer that I don't like and will never ever eat (venison, scallops, etc.) is still there.
The wine and beer I will not drink is untouched.
Every piece of paper I find with his handwriting gets saved - phone numbers on the backs of envelopes, grocery lists on paper scraps - all of it.
His voice is on the voice mail so I can hear him when I need to.
I'm even saving odds and ends that I always threw away before - lighters, pennies, old pens. They have no connection to him - they are just things that I find in my car, or an old purse, or the junk drawer. The only connection is that he would have kept them. So I do too.
Weirdest of all, I have still not changed the sheets. Why? I keep thinking I will smell him. I want so much to lie in our bed and be surrounded by him. I sleep on his side now, and have since the very first night. The mattress pillowtop is more worn down on his side, and I get a backache from sleeping there, but I don't care. I even took his favorite (clean) fishing shirt and put it on my pillow as a pillow case. I bury my face in the pillows, the covers, and breathe deep - hoping for just a little of him. It isn't there - it wasn't even there the first night. Still, I don't give up hope. I inhale every time I turn over or adjust the covers - maybe this is the time I will smell him. It doesn't happen, but I keep hoping. The sheets are feeling pretty yucky, but they are the ones he last slept on. Embarassing as it is, I'm just not ready to wash him away.
Next to his ring and pictures of him, my favorite thing of all is the shirt he wore the night before the accident - a white golf shirt. He made spaghetti that night, as evidenced by the sauce drips on the front of the shirt. The night of the accident, one of my neighbors went into our closet and found it for me - probably in the top of his hamper. She knew I needed something to hold on to, and brought it to me without my asking. It was the best thing anyone could have done. It DOES smell like him, and also, it has tiny hair clippings inside the neck - he got a haircut that day. I slept in it for the first several nights, but then I got worried it would lose his smell and take on mine instead, and that the hair clippings would get brushed off. Now I keep it in a drawer all by itself, and take it out and put my face in it when I need a fix.
I know this all sounds sad and depressing, but for me it's not. The sad and depressing is that he's gone - keeping all his things the same gives me comfort. I like the toothpaste, the scribbled notes, the kitchen just the way he left it.
So I dragged out a bunch of my stuff I don't need and sent it over for the garage sale. Nothing of his. I go on vacation next week - I'll think about the sheets when I get back...
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Happiness
Today was a different kind of sad. It was quieter - more a sense of depression and futility than teary sadness. The future seems enormous and without purpose. I feel split between wanting the sadness because I am not ready to let go of him yet, and wanting to be happy again someday. I don't know how to let go and be happy. Letting go feels more sad, not less. But I don't think happiness can start to come back until I do let go. Just to be clear - I am not talking about forgetting him when I say "let go" - I just mean that I know eventually I have to stop fighting to pull him back to me. Every day, every minute, I fight letting go of him.
Before he was taken, I never paid much attention to happiness. I took it for granted - I was, as you all could probably tell, a very happy person. I also assumed that if I smiled, laughed, felt enjoyment, that all those things were a form of happiness. I now realize that I can genuinely smile and laugh - not at all in a forced way - and yet still not feel any happiness inside. Rest assured that I do smile and laugh pretty often. I know that if you just read this blog you probably wouldn't know that, because I don't write about the uncomplicated stuff like laughter. But the smiles and laughter are "nose down" - they don't reach my eyes.
I had trouble sleeping again last night, and had a dream that woke me up - couldn't go back to sleep after. I have had only four dreams that I wake up remembering since the accident. This was the first one Kirk was not in. He wasn't anywhere - not in my past, my present or my future.
In the dream, I was at a big party at a beautiful house with a gigantic yard. Everyone I really like was there - all my friends and family, so you were all there, and everyone was having a great time. It was nighttime - people were laughing, eating, dancing, playing games, and some were playing tag in the trees. It was clear that everyone was happy except me. I wanted to feel like all of you - the happiness was pulling at me. One of you (I won't mention who) could feel how close I was to letting myself be happy. You came to me and said you were going to play tag - those were the people who looked happiest. You wanted me to come with you. You didn't try to force me - just encouraged me to try. I finally let you persuade me, because the feeling of wanting the happiness was so powerful, but I felt I had to change my clothes first. I went to change and you waited. I changed into something else, but when I looked in the mirror I hated it - it felt all wrong. I changed again and still hated it. I kept changing and changing while you waited for a long time. You were patient, and kept telling me what I had on was fine, but I never found the right thing, and I woke up without ever trying the happiness.
Is this too psychoanalytical for you? I know it's geeky - Kirk used to laugh at me all the time when I tried to figure out why I had a certain dream or what it "meant." But is it so far fetched to think the dream is really about me trying to figure out how to change into someone who can be happy? And maybe not knowing which "outfit" (which new me?) will feel okay?
Or maybe it's just a weird dream. Tag? Seriously? I would have a heart attack if I tried to run around in the trees. Besides, wouldn't that require flat shoes? Ridiculous - heels are so much prettier!
I do know I want to be happy. I thought it would come easier though. I thought if I focused on appreciating what I had, and still have, I could find a way to (sometimes) be happy sooner. Or at least be both happy and sad. Turns out willpower and determination are not enough yet - not even to find little moments of happiness. I guess I will just have to keep breathing and be patient. In the meantime, don't worry about me - I'll get there.
Before he was taken, I never paid much attention to happiness. I took it for granted - I was, as you all could probably tell, a very happy person. I also assumed that if I smiled, laughed, felt enjoyment, that all those things were a form of happiness. I now realize that I can genuinely smile and laugh - not at all in a forced way - and yet still not feel any happiness inside. Rest assured that I do smile and laugh pretty often. I know that if you just read this blog you probably wouldn't know that, because I don't write about the uncomplicated stuff like laughter. But the smiles and laughter are "nose down" - they don't reach my eyes.
I had trouble sleeping again last night, and had a dream that woke me up - couldn't go back to sleep after. I have had only four dreams that I wake up remembering since the accident. This was the first one Kirk was not in. He wasn't anywhere - not in my past, my present or my future.
In the dream, I was at a big party at a beautiful house with a gigantic yard. Everyone I really like was there - all my friends and family, so you were all there, and everyone was having a great time. It was nighttime - people were laughing, eating, dancing, playing games, and some were playing tag in the trees. It was clear that everyone was happy except me. I wanted to feel like all of you - the happiness was pulling at me. One of you (I won't mention who) could feel how close I was to letting myself be happy. You came to me and said you were going to play tag - those were the people who looked happiest. You wanted me to come with you. You didn't try to force me - just encouraged me to try. I finally let you persuade me, because the feeling of wanting the happiness was so powerful, but I felt I had to change my clothes first. I went to change and you waited. I changed into something else, but when I looked in the mirror I hated it - it felt all wrong. I changed again and still hated it. I kept changing and changing while you waited for a long time. You were patient, and kept telling me what I had on was fine, but I never found the right thing, and I woke up without ever trying the happiness.
Is this too psychoanalytical for you? I know it's geeky - Kirk used to laugh at me all the time when I tried to figure out why I had a certain dream or what it "meant." But is it so far fetched to think the dream is really about me trying to figure out how to change into someone who can be happy? And maybe not knowing which "outfit" (which new me?) will feel okay?
Or maybe it's just a weird dream. Tag? Seriously? I would have a heart attack if I tried to run around in the trees. Besides, wouldn't that require flat shoes? Ridiculous - heels are so much prettier!
I do know I want to be happy. I thought it would come easier though. I thought if I focused on appreciating what I had, and still have, I could find a way to (sometimes) be happy sooner. Or at least be both happy and sad. Turns out willpower and determination are not enough yet - not even to find little moments of happiness. I guess I will just have to keep breathing and be patient. In the meantime, don't worry about me - I'll get there.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Remembering to be Grateful
The last few days have been very difficult, and on top of everything else, I am struggling to sleep well. But I am trying to focus not just on what I have lost, but what I have to be grateful for. So far, this is what I am reminding myself of:
Almost thirty years together. There are not enough words to describe all I am grateful for in those years, so I won't even try. I just remind myself that many people don't get that much.
Two fantastic kids who have grown up to be good, decent, hardworking adults and who are more concerned about me right now than they are themselves. Kirk would be so proud of them.
A wonderful family of in-laws who support me and still want me in their family.
My own family who has shown themselves once again to be the most caring, understanding, and supportive people I could ever ask for.
Christmas 2008 - almost every single member of his family in our home - laughing, eating, playing games, eating, a few times arguing, sleeping everywhere you looked, and more eating (after all, Kirk was in the kitchen!)
Lots and lots and lots of friends - his, mine, and ours - who were there for us when the unthinkable happened, and who have not deserted us as so many people do.
The "secret life" I found after his death. Most women would worry that it would be an affair, or gambling debts, or some other terrible, distressing, shocking legacy. When I found the disk hidden in his closet, I feared the worst for a moment - would this be the flaw I never found in him while he was alive? I looked anyway. What did I find? Nearly 700 photos - every one taken of me when I didn't know it. Pictures of me sleeping, reading, lying on the back of the boat, putting my makeup on, etc. What man wants 683 pictures of his wife doing the most ordinary things? Mine, apparently.
New neighbors who continue to look out for me, at times not even letting me do things I could learn to do for myself. I could not have gotten through those first few days without them.
A long and cherished visit with Kirk's Dad and Sandy - approximately November 2008 to March 2009
One of my favorite things on this list - stories I am hearing of Kirk that were outside my life with him. They are such gifts to me - it's like getting to know a piece of him I never had before. Like the pretty woman who came to the calling hours and told me he had taken her to her first formal dance (now I know who the mystery girl in the picture is where he wore a baby blue tux - so 1970's!). She told me how nervous she was and that he was so handsome and such a gentleman (knowing him the way I do however, I'll bet his thoughts were not so gentlemanly!).
New co-workers who were there for me on the very first night and have been ever since.
Other women who have lost their husbands who reach out to me and help me realize I am not as crazy as I often feel.
A small town police department that probably isn't as professional as a big one would be, but is made up of decent people who are passionate about this tragedy, which makes up for the lack of expertise. Where else in our sue-at-the-drop-of-a-hat society would the police chief apologize to you and say he feels it's his fault your husband died?
A recent visit (March 2009) from our very good friends Mark and Nancy
That we all are able to not feel any guilt - we have our regrets, but none of us are carrying guilt that haunts us.
His big personality. It helps me keep him alive and constantly in my thoughts - I know how he would react to so many things. There are dozens of times each day that I think, he would have laughed at that, he would have been upset at that, he would have been proud of that, he would have talked to that stranger, and on and on.
Codie and Charley - my daily companions.
The self-confidence he gave me. Most of you who know me would never imagine how little confidence I had when I met him. The me you see today is a result of years and years of the support, encouragement, pride, and admiration he gave me, and it is no exaggeration to say that I would not be who I am now had it not been for him. More than any other, this is the trait that is helping me get through this. Little did he know how badly I would need this gift from him and how it would be put to the test.
That we bought the boat - the source of such wonderful memories.
The list begins and ends in the same place - almost thirty years together. Like I said, I ♥ Kirk.
Almost thirty years together. There are not enough words to describe all I am grateful for in those years, so I won't even try. I just remind myself that many people don't get that much.
Two fantastic kids who have grown up to be good, decent, hardworking adults and who are more concerned about me right now than they are themselves. Kirk would be so proud of them.
A wonderful family of in-laws who support me and still want me in their family.
My own family who has shown themselves once again to be the most caring, understanding, and supportive people I could ever ask for.
Christmas 2008 - almost every single member of his family in our home - laughing, eating, playing games, eating, a few times arguing, sleeping everywhere you looked, and more eating (after all, Kirk was in the kitchen!)
Lots and lots and lots of friends - his, mine, and ours - who were there for us when the unthinkable happened, and who have not deserted us as so many people do.
The "secret life" I found after his death. Most women would worry that it would be an affair, or gambling debts, or some other terrible, distressing, shocking legacy. When I found the disk hidden in his closet, I feared the worst for a moment - would this be the flaw I never found in him while he was alive? I looked anyway. What did I find? Nearly 700 photos - every one taken of me when I didn't know it. Pictures of me sleeping, reading, lying on the back of the boat, putting my makeup on, etc. What man wants 683 pictures of his wife doing the most ordinary things? Mine, apparently.
New neighbors who continue to look out for me, at times not even letting me do things I could learn to do for myself. I could not have gotten through those first few days without them.
A long and cherished visit with Kirk's Dad and Sandy - approximately November 2008 to March 2009
One of my favorite things on this list - stories I am hearing of Kirk that were outside my life with him. They are such gifts to me - it's like getting to know a piece of him I never had before. Like the pretty woman who came to the calling hours and told me he had taken her to her first formal dance (now I know who the mystery girl in the picture is where he wore a baby blue tux - so 1970's!). She told me how nervous she was and that he was so handsome and such a gentleman (knowing him the way I do however, I'll bet his thoughts were not so gentlemanly!).
New co-workers who were there for me on the very first night and have been ever since.
Other women who have lost their husbands who reach out to me and help me realize I am not as crazy as I often feel.
A small town police department that probably isn't as professional as a big one would be, but is made up of decent people who are passionate about this tragedy, which makes up for the lack of expertise. Where else in our sue-at-the-drop-of-a-hat society would the police chief apologize to you and say he feels it's his fault your husband died?
A recent visit (March 2009) from our very good friends Mark and Nancy
That we all are able to not feel any guilt - we have our regrets, but none of us are carrying guilt that haunts us.
His big personality. It helps me keep him alive and constantly in my thoughts - I know how he would react to so many things. There are dozens of times each day that I think, he would have laughed at that, he would have been upset at that, he would have been proud of that, he would have talked to that stranger, and on and on.
Codie and Charley - my daily companions.
The self-confidence he gave me. Most of you who know me would never imagine how little confidence I had when I met him. The me you see today is a result of years and years of the support, encouragement, pride, and admiration he gave me, and it is no exaggeration to say that I would not be who I am now had it not been for him. More than any other, this is the trait that is helping me get through this. Little did he know how badly I would need this gift from him and how it would be put to the test.
That we bought the boat - the source of such wonderful memories.
The list begins and ends in the same place - almost thirty years together. Like I said, I ♥ Kirk.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Where are you?
Dear Kirk,
Where are you? Are you anywhere at all? I wish I knew, or least knew what I believed. I wonder all the time if you are there somewhere, and if so, are you connected to us somehow? In my analytical way (yes, it's still the same me!) I wonder,
Can you see me but not hear me or know my thoughts and feelings? Just in case, I think about what you might see - do I look sad enough? If I smile or laugh do you think it means I'm over you? Do you see how much thinner I am and think - who is she losing weight for? Do you see me leaving work earlier than I ever have, and think, why didn't she come home earlier to me?
Maybe you can hear me, but not see me or know what I feel and think. Just in case, I talk to you. Out loud, quite a bit. Do you listen? When I talk to other people about how I feel, I try very hard to choose exactly the right words, the right everything. I re-explain what I mean in so many ways. If they misunderstand, I work hard to clarify. For a long time, I thought I did this because I wanted the person to understand exactly what I feel. But I have realized that the effort is not for them - it's for YOU. I worry that if I get it wrong you too will misunderstand, and you might be hurt. Like when I said I was glad it was you this happened to because this hurts so much I can't stand the thought of you feeling it if it were the other way around. Do you understand me? I'm NOT really glad it was you - I just wouldn't want you to experience this.
Or worst of all, do you "observe" me not through sight or sound, but by knowing how I feel? I'm most scared this is it. Because I am just not sad enough yet and I'm afraid it hurts you. Don't get me wrong - I'm really sad, and I miss you terribly. There are tears every day. But it's still not enough. Why? Because my grief is not yet as big as my love. How can that be?! I should be unable to eat, sleep, work, get out of bed, take out the garbage, think, drive, shower, feed the dogs, read a book, buy new shoes. I should be completely dysfunctional - not forever, but sometimes, for now. At least for a day!! Why am I not? I hate it that I am not - how can the grief not be as extreme as the love? It makes me afraid you will think I didn't love you as much as everyone thought I did. As much as I thought I did - as much as you thought I did.
It's like an algebra equation - one side always has to equal the other. Let's face it - that's what we ALL think right? That the more you love someone the deeper and longer you grieve. I love you so much - the grief HAS to be bigger. Where's the rest of it? If you can feel my feelings, I'm so worried you are thinking you were mistaken about me.
People say that I'm strong - that I'm doing well. Some say they don't know how I'm managing - that if it was them they don't think they could do as well. I know they mean this as encouragement - maybe even as admiration or a compliment. But it makes me feel worse when they say it. Instead of hearing something nice, this is what I hear - "I guess you didn't love him as much as we all thought" or "I love my spouse more, so his/her death would devastate me more." I do know this is NOT what they mean, but there is no logic to grief and how it twists my thoughts, and no amount of reason makes me interpret these comments any differently. Do you hear me - I want to be SADDER - I want to hurt MORE. I do NOT want to be doing well.
I have been struggling with this for over a month now - I just can't get past it. I don't know if the real reason I am so functional is that I am still numb, or that I am in "denial," as the conventional wisdom goes. Recently I read a page in a book called "Healing After Loss - Daily Meditations for Working Through Grief" by Martha Whitmore Hickman (thank you to Sandy B for giving me this wonderful book).
On this particular page, the author quotes Washington Irving - "The sorrow for the dead is the only sorrow from which we refuse to be divorced. Every other wound we seek to heal, every other affliction to forget; but this wound we cherish and brood over in solitude." Hickman then writes, "Grief...can make us feel we have stayed close to the one we loved. After all, the loved one's dying was our last connection, and why wouldn't we want to hold on?"
This makes some sense to me. Do I want to be even more sad because it keeps me close to you? I don't know. I desperately want to be close to you again.
If you can know my feelings, please don't notice the grief and use it to measure the love. Look past the sadness and find the love itself. You will feel how big it is, and know that you were right all along.
Where are you? Are you anywhere at all? I wish I knew, or least knew what I believed. I wonder all the time if you are there somewhere, and if so, are you connected to us somehow? In my analytical way (yes, it's still the same me!) I wonder,
Can you see me but not hear me or know my thoughts and feelings? Just in case, I think about what you might see - do I look sad enough? If I smile or laugh do you think it means I'm over you? Do you see how much thinner I am and think - who is she losing weight for? Do you see me leaving work earlier than I ever have, and think, why didn't she come home earlier to me?
Maybe you can hear me, but not see me or know what I feel and think. Just in case, I talk to you. Out loud, quite a bit. Do you listen? When I talk to other people about how I feel, I try very hard to choose exactly the right words, the right everything. I re-explain what I mean in so many ways. If they misunderstand, I work hard to clarify. For a long time, I thought I did this because I wanted the person to understand exactly what I feel. But I have realized that the effort is not for them - it's for YOU. I worry that if I get it wrong you too will misunderstand, and you might be hurt. Like when I said I was glad it was you this happened to because this hurts so much I can't stand the thought of you feeling it if it were the other way around. Do you understand me? I'm NOT really glad it was you - I just wouldn't want you to experience this.
Or worst of all, do you "observe" me not through sight or sound, but by knowing how I feel? I'm most scared this is it. Because I am just not sad enough yet and I'm afraid it hurts you. Don't get me wrong - I'm really sad, and I miss you terribly. There are tears every day. But it's still not enough. Why? Because my grief is not yet as big as my love. How can that be?! I should be unable to eat, sleep, work, get out of bed, take out the garbage, think, drive, shower, feed the dogs, read a book, buy new shoes. I should be completely dysfunctional - not forever, but sometimes, for now. At least for a day!! Why am I not? I hate it that I am not - how can the grief not be as extreme as the love? It makes me afraid you will think I didn't love you as much as everyone thought I did. As much as I thought I did - as much as you thought I did.
It's like an algebra equation - one side always has to equal the other. Let's face it - that's what we ALL think right? That the more you love someone the deeper and longer you grieve. I love you so much - the grief HAS to be bigger. Where's the rest of it? If you can feel my feelings, I'm so worried you are thinking you were mistaken about me.
People say that I'm strong - that I'm doing well. Some say they don't know how I'm managing - that if it was them they don't think they could do as well. I know they mean this as encouragement - maybe even as admiration or a compliment. But it makes me feel worse when they say it. Instead of hearing something nice, this is what I hear - "I guess you didn't love him as much as we all thought" or "I love my spouse more, so his/her death would devastate me more." I do know this is NOT what they mean, but there is no logic to grief and how it twists my thoughts, and no amount of reason makes me interpret these comments any differently. Do you hear me - I want to be SADDER - I want to hurt MORE. I do NOT want to be doing well.
I have been struggling with this for over a month now - I just can't get past it. I don't know if the real reason I am so functional is that I am still numb, or that I am in "denial," as the conventional wisdom goes. Recently I read a page in a book called "Healing After Loss - Daily Meditations for Working Through Grief" by Martha Whitmore Hickman (thank you to Sandy B for giving me this wonderful book).
On this particular page, the author quotes Washington Irving - "The sorrow for the dead is the only sorrow from which we refuse to be divorced. Every other wound we seek to heal, every other affliction to forget; but this wound we cherish and brood over in solitude." Hickman then writes, "Grief...can make us feel we have stayed close to the one we loved. After all, the loved one's dying was our last connection, and why wouldn't we want to hold on?"
This makes some sense to me. Do I want to be even more sad because it keeps me close to you? I don't know. I desperately want to be close to you again.
If you can know my feelings, please don't notice the grief and use it to measure the love. Look past the sadness and find the love itself. You will feel how big it is, and know that you were right all along.
Friday, July 24, 2009
3 Months Later
Today is three months. I had expected it would be a tough day, but so far most of the day was manageable. Until I had to take Codie to the vet. Her appointment was at 3:30. I had to rent a car to take her because she can't get in the truck - we always took her in Kirk's car. As anyone reading this probably knows, he died on the way to the vet. It is impossible to get there without either driving over the spot where the accident occurred, or taking some back roads that still cause me to be within about 50 yards of where it happened.
I chose the back way. I can visit the accident site, but cannot drive over it. I was teary for part of the drive, but we got there fine, and Codie had a good check up. She's in good shape for an old lady of 98 people years. But on the way back, I had to travel the exact same route, going in the exact same direction, that the other driver was on before he caused the accident. I couldn't help but think that 3 months ago today, he had no idea that within ten minutes he would kill someone. He should have known it was possible, going that fast. But for whatever reason it didn't matter to him. I passed speed limit sign after speed limit sign - they all said 45.
Then I thought about Kirk, happily coming in the other direction. He spent the afternoon going to jewelry stores (without my knowledge). It wasn't my birthday, or our anniversary, or any other occasion. He liked to surprise me for no reason. He had told the neighbors that he hadn't bought me jewelry in a year, and he felt it was time. He went to two stores - the brochures were in the car with him, the cards of salespeople in his wallet. It was just before 4:30, and he was on the phone with Kathy, who he cared about so much, talking about me and our future together - with no knowledge that the future was only 10 minutes longer. What would he have done if he had known? I'm sure he would have called me. Hopefully I would have answered.
As I was thinking all this, I realized that I was approaching the spot at just before 4:30. I got upset - I didn't want to be there at the same time the accident happened. It would have been okay if I could have stopped, but I couldn't with Codie in the car - the car is uncomfortable for her and I have to keep trips short. Fortunately I got there before the exact time. I watched the cars coming toward me - 5, 6, 7 cars - all traveling innocently and safely over the spot he never made it past. They were okay because I went the speed limit and stayed in my own lane. I'm sure they had no idea what can happen in that spot.
You would think all this would have made me sad for my loss. I was, but much more than that, I am sad for HIM today. I keep thinking of all the life he will miss. He will never
Walk his daughter down the aisle
Watch his son watch his bride walk down the aisle
Hold our grandchildren - the perfect baby for him - ours yet still OPB (his term for Other People's Babies)
Get a moose, an elk, a bear with a bow
See Australia, Hawaii, Alaska
Own a Hummer
Hunt ducks with a dog who would do anything for him
Catch absolutely no fish and love every minute on the lake anyway
See the Cowboys win the Superbowl (again)
See the Americans win the Ryder Cup (again)
See the Yankees win the World Series (AGAIN!)
Grow old with me
The last one is the biggest loss of all, because it includes everything listed before it, plus all the little, forgettable moments that make life wonderful.
Twenty eight years, three months, and twenty seven days of marriage - some sad, some angry, almost all happy - every one of them worth it. I ♥ Kirk.
I chose the back way. I can visit the accident site, but cannot drive over it. I was teary for part of the drive, but we got there fine, and Codie had a good check up. She's in good shape for an old lady of 98 people years. But on the way back, I had to travel the exact same route, going in the exact same direction, that the other driver was on before he caused the accident. I couldn't help but think that 3 months ago today, he had no idea that within ten minutes he would kill someone. He should have known it was possible, going that fast. But for whatever reason it didn't matter to him. I passed speed limit sign after speed limit sign - they all said 45.
Then I thought about Kirk, happily coming in the other direction. He spent the afternoon going to jewelry stores (without my knowledge). It wasn't my birthday, or our anniversary, or any other occasion. He liked to surprise me for no reason. He had told the neighbors that he hadn't bought me jewelry in a year, and he felt it was time. He went to two stores - the brochures were in the car with him, the cards of salespeople in his wallet. It was just before 4:30, and he was on the phone with Kathy, who he cared about so much, talking about me and our future together - with no knowledge that the future was only 10 minutes longer. What would he have done if he had known? I'm sure he would have called me. Hopefully I would have answered.
As I was thinking all this, I realized that I was approaching the spot at just before 4:30. I got upset - I didn't want to be there at the same time the accident happened. It would have been okay if I could have stopped, but I couldn't with Codie in the car - the car is uncomfortable for her and I have to keep trips short. Fortunately I got there before the exact time. I watched the cars coming toward me - 5, 6, 7 cars - all traveling innocently and safely over the spot he never made it past. They were okay because I went the speed limit and stayed in my own lane. I'm sure they had no idea what can happen in that spot.
You would think all this would have made me sad for my loss. I was, but much more than that, I am sad for HIM today. I keep thinking of all the life he will miss. He will never
Walk his daughter down the aisle
Watch his son watch his bride walk down the aisle
Hold our grandchildren - the perfect baby for him - ours yet still OPB (his term for Other People's Babies)
Get a moose, an elk, a bear with a bow
See Australia, Hawaii, Alaska
Own a Hummer
Hunt ducks with a dog who would do anything for him
Catch absolutely no fish and love every minute on the lake anyway
See the Cowboys win the Superbowl (again)
See the Americans win the Ryder Cup (again)
See the Yankees win the World Series (AGAIN!)
Grow old with me
The last one is the biggest loss of all, because it includes everything listed before it, plus all the little, forgettable moments that make life wonderful.
Twenty eight years, three months, and twenty seven days of marriage - some sad, some angry, almost all happy - every one of them worth it. I ♥ Kirk.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Some of the Things I Miss
I miss so many things. Some big, some small, all tough to live without, but usually happy to remember. I miss:
Ribeye steaks rubbed with olive oil, garlic, and sea salt and cooked just how I like them (because as he always said, it's all about Lisa)
Flowers sent for no reason other than to make me happy
Spooning while I fall asleep
Having someone who makes me feel pretty, smart, funny, amazing, capable, happy, LOVED
Talking about the kids with the other person who loved them most
Being reminded to turn off lights, close the bedroom door to keep the dogs out during the day, turn the air conditioning off in the main part of the house at night, change the oil, fill up the gas tank
How he wanted me to wake him up every day when I left for work, and how he always managed to wake up enough to say "drive carefully, take a banana, i love you." And if I had forgotten my cell phone recently, he would add "don't forget your cell phone" for a few days afterwards.
Being "lifeguarded" while in the shower (he assured me that this was very necessary - showering is dangerous business, and if I was not closely monitored, I was at significant risk of drowning). He was very dedicated to my safety, and stood right outside the shower and watched to ensure I was all right. Sometimes he worked so hard at it that he leaned too hard on the shower rod and it would crash down on him. Seems lifeguarding is hazardous in its own right.
The kiss chair. This is a chair in our eating area, which is the first room I walk into every night when I come home. When he heard me pull in the driveway, he would go sit in the kiss chair, and I was obligated to kiss him right away when I came in the house. If he didn't hear the car pull up because he was in another part of the house, I would open the door from the garage to the house, and he would hear me from the other end of the house and come running (and I do mean RUNNING) to sit in the chair. I think some breakable objects fell victim to his enthusiasm a time or two.
How he talked to EVERYONE in the grocery store, the home improvement store, the gas station, etc., but would barely make conversation at a party at anyone's house but ours.
Homemade macaroni and cheese with hotdogs whenever I had a bad day.
Someone to get rid of the bugs and put things away in high places.
Riding in the car together.
Arguing over who really snores.
Laughing at the dogs, at ridiculous people (like the lady I saw the other day in public with bedroom slippers on that looked like HUGE fluffy lion heads), at the bjod, at Seinfeld, at funny thoughts
Having someone who knows that if I'm ever in a coma, I want vaseline on my lips, my hair pulled back off my face and neck, and that if I'm on my side, my face needs to be at the edge of the pillow
Seeing him make the bed every day - which he did the instant he got up, before even going to the bathroom, and always naked. How could it be that urgent?
Long lazy days on the boat - our favorite time together
Having someone to wake me up from naps so I don't sleep all day
Sensing that someone is looking at me while reading, watching TV, dozing, and looking up to see him smiling at me like I'm the best most wonderful thing he ever saw
Hearing him answer the phone - HEEEELLO!
Complaints about putting like a pig and catching no fish
Being told "don't eat this" as he solemnly gives me a packet of desiccant from a bag of beef jerky
Having him hand me the big annual Cabela's catalog and tell me to pick out my Christmas gift
Coming home just before hunting season to find him sitting on the floor in the living room all decked out in camo, and having him act surprised that I could still see him.
Being referred to as "my bride" (hence the name of this blog)
How he loved to watch me brush my teeth, curl my hair, put makeup on, get dressed.
The round of applause - literally - when I got undressed (sorry kids...)
His love of "faggy tassel loafers"
Having a partner, a best friend, an advisor, someone who knows me like no on else ever has
Suffering through Star Trek, which he loved for some crazy reason
Listening to him ponder the meaning of the Michael J. Fox "drink the sand" outburst in "The American President."
Checking his shirts for spots before leaving the house. Oh, and debating whether it was okay to wear shorts with a giant hole in the crotch, as long as the hole in the crotch of your underwear didn't line up with it. Seeing the shirts that he carefully hung up to drip dry so they wouldn't shrink in the dryer, even though they already had big tears in them and were so ratty I wouldn't even have taken them to Goodwill.
Ribeye steaks rubbed with olive oil, garlic, and sea salt and cooked just how I like them (because as he always said, it's all about Lisa)
Flowers sent for no reason other than to make me happy
Spooning while I fall asleep
Having someone who makes me feel pretty, smart, funny, amazing, capable, happy, LOVED
Talking about the kids with the other person who loved them most
Being reminded to turn off lights, close the bedroom door to keep the dogs out during the day, turn the air conditioning off in the main part of the house at night, change the oil, fill up the gas tank
How he wanted me to wake him up every day when I left for work, and how he always managed to wake up enough to say "drive carefully, take a banana, i love you." And if I had forgotten my cell phone recently, he would add "don't forget your cell phone" for a few days afterwards.
Being "lifeguarded" while in the shower (he assured me that this was very necessary - showering is dangerous business, and if I was not closely monitored, I was at significant risk of drowning). He was very dedicated to my safety, and stood right outside the shower and watched to ensure I was all right. Sometimes he worked so hard at it that he leaned too hard on the shower rod and it would crash down on him. Seems lifeguarding is hazardous in its own right.
The kiss chair. This is a chair in our eating area, which is the first room I walk into every night when I come home. When he heard me pull in the driveway, he would go sit in the kiss chair, and I was obligated to kiss him right away when I came in the house. If he didn't hear the car pull up because he was in another part of the house, I would open the door from the garage to the house, and he would hear me from the other end of the house and come running (and I do mean RUNNING) to sit in the chair. I think some breakable objects fell victim to his enthusiasm a time or two.
How he talked to EVERYONE in the grocery store, the home improvement store, the gas station, etc., but would barely make conversation at a party at anyone's house but ours.
Homemade macaroni and cheese with hotdogs whenever I had a bad day.
Someone to get rid of the bugs and put things away in high places.
Riding in the car together.
Arguing over who really snores.
Laughing at the dogs, at ridiculous people (like the lady I saw the other day in public with bedroom slippers on that looked like HUGE fluffy lion heads), at the bjod, at Seinfeld, at funny thoughts
Having someone who knows that if I'm ever in a coma, I want vaseline on my lips, my hair pulled back off my face and neck, and that if I'm on my side, my face needs to be at the edge of the pillow
Seeing him make the bed every day - which he did the instant he got up, before even going to the bathroom, and always naked. How could it be that urgent?
Long lazy days on the boat - our favorite time together
Having someone to wake me up from naps so I don't sleep all day
Sensing that someone is looking at me while reading, watching TV, dozing, and looking up to see him smiling at me like I'm the best most wonderful thing he ever saw
Hearing him answer the phone - HEEEELLO!
Complaints about putting like a pig and catching no fish
Being told "don't eat this" as he solemnly gives me a packet of desiccant from a bag of beef jerky
Having him hand me the big annual Cabela's catalog and tell me to pick out my Christmas gift
Coming home just before hunting season to find him sitting on the floor in the living room all decked out in camo, and having him act surprised that I could still see him.
Being referred to as "my bride" (hence the name of this blog)
How he loved to watch me brush my teeth, curl my hair, put makeup on, get dressed.
The round of applause - literally - when I got undressed (sorry kids...)
His love of "faggy tassel loafers"
Having a partner, a best friend, an advisor, someone who knows me like no on else ever has
Suffering through Star Trek, which he loved for some crazy reason
Listening to him ponder the meaning of the Michael J. Fox "drink the sand" outburst in "The American President."
Checking his shirts for spots before leaving the house. Oh, and debating whether it was okay to wear shorts with a giant hole in the crotch, as long as the hole in the crotch of your underwear didn't line up with it. Seeing the shirts that he carefully hung up to drip dry so they wouldn't shrink in the dryer, even though they already had big tears in them and were so ratty I wouldn't even have taken them to Goodwill.
How whenever I got a pimple he would walk toward me and then when he was about a foot away he would stagger backward as if it protruded so far from my face he had bumped into it. Then he would offer to scoop it out with a melonballer.
His big happy smile
Amazing how the things that I miss the most are also the things I most love to think about and try to remind myself of when I am saddest. I am so unlucky and yet still so lucky.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Why am I doing this?
I have never "blogged" before. I barely know what a blog is. No interest, no time. Nor do I use Facebook, MySpace, Twitter or any of that other junk. I barely (as friends and family will attest) check my email. So why do this?
Because my husband died. Since then I am confused, sad, mad, lonely, sad, frustrated, shocked and SAD. My brain is jumbled with more thoughts and feelings than I can process. I tried keeping a journal but I can't write fast enough and besides, my hand gets tired. On top of that, I am overwhelmed by the number of people who care about me. You call, you write, you visit, and I know you wonder and worry about me when you are not calling, writing and visiting, and you especially wonder and worry when I don't call or write you back. I probably hurt your feelings too. I know you all want at least these two things - you want to help, and you want to know how I am doing.
So this blog has multiple purposes. (1) It will help me answer the most dreaded question of all, the question that has no answer anymore, certainly not an answer many people want to settle in for. The question is "How are you doing?" (2) It will be my way of responding to the many caring people who call or write to check on me, most of whom I never call or write back because it is just too much. (3) It will be my way of telling you all what is happening with the court/criminal situation, which I know you all want to know, and I end up repeating over and over. 4) It will let me write what I think and feel, which hopefully will help me cope. (5) Who knows what other purpose will evolve? I guess it may turn into a tribute of sorts - to him, maybe to me, maybe to us, maybe to our family. Or it could just be what I do when I don't know what else to do.
So where to start? With his name I think - Kirk. No one around me says it anymore. They say "him" or "he" or nothing at all. His name was Kirk. He was SO alive - I can't fathom that anyone that alive is not anymore. He died on the way to the vet to pick up pills for the dog. He died four miles from home when an idiot with a bad mullet going 110 mph crossed the center line and hit his car. He died while I was at work, on the phone with someone I don't really like. It was a long call, but I'm pretty sure that right around the time he died, the person had told me something funny, and I was laughing. I HATE that I think I was laughing - with someone I don't even like - while Kirk died.
He died almost instantly, but not quite. For those who haven't heard, I now know that a caring stranger stopped to try to help, and did by holding his hand while he died. I don't know her, but will be forever grateful to her. I'm sure she wasn't laughing.
So on to the big question - How Am I Doing? The answer is that it is an impossible question. Those of you who loved him the absolute most (Matt, Erika, his Mom, his Dad , Sandy, Jill, Mark, Nancy, Brian, Kathy, etc., etc.) know that by now. I suspect that like me, you may have come to dread the question because it is so unanswerable.
So I say "as well as can be expected." As if that tells anyone anything. Especially because I now know that what we all would have expected a person who just lost her husband to be feeling is often NOT what I am feeling. Your expectations about what it is like to lose a spouse this way are probably similar to mine. First of all, I would have thought that it would get a little better each day. It hasn't - it is up and down and all over the place, and changes from minute to minute, not day to day. Second, I would have thought that I would be totally incapacitated with grief (at least some of the time). I mean really non-functional - can't get out of bed can't go to work can't sleep without pills cry 100% of the time non-functional. But I am not (this is a complicated subject and too big to elaborate on today - perhaps another day). Third, I would have thought that I would not be able to genuinely laugh and smile at anything, but I can (I don't feel genuinely happy when I do it, but I'm not faking either). Fourth, I would have thought I would bury myself in work, but I don't. Ironically, I go home earlier now than I ever have (sorry honey...). Fifth, I would have thought I would be scared and overwhelmed to live in the house without him, but I am definitely not. I don't like it, and I miss him terribly, but I'm not scared. Sixth, etc., etc. The point is it is not what I expected and too complex to explain. So instead I will ramble, and over time, you will hopefully come to know the answer. Maybe I will too.
So what can you expect next? I'm not really sure. I will write when I want or need to, but probably not more than a few times a week. I suspect it may be more at first and less over time. What will I write? I think it will primarily be two things - whatever is in my head or heart that I need to get out, and updates with new information that I want to share (such as the progress of the case). Feel free to comment and write back, and to give the link to anyone else who might want to read this.
One final comment - you may at times read things here that upset you, and especially may hear me say things that you think I shouldn't feel (like feeling bad about the laughing). I need you all to please not tell me I shouldn't feel that way. I know all that, but it doesn't change anything. I have learned that how I feel is how I feel and no amount of reason or logic changes it - only time will. When people tell me I shouldn't feel something, I know they mean it out of the good of their hearts, but it makes me feel dismissed or like they think I am doing this wrong. The worst is when someone says "he wouldn't want you to feel that way." I DO feel that way - I don't need the burden of feeling like I am letting him down.
Because my husband died. Since then I am confused, sad, mad, lonely, sad, frustrated, shocked and SAD. My brain is jumbled with more thoughts and feelings than I can process. I tried keeping a journal but I can't write fast enough and besides, my hand gets tired. On top of that, I am overwhelmed by the number of people who care about me. You call, you write, you visit, and I know you wonder and worry about me when you are not calling, writing and visiting, and you especially wonder and worry when I don't call or write you back. I probably hurt your feelings too. I know you all want at least these two things - you want to help, and you want to know how I am doing.
So this blog has multiple purposes. (1) It will help me answer the most dreaded question of all, the question that has no answer anymore, certainly not an answer many people want to settle in for. The question is "How are you doing?" (2) It will be my way of responding to the many caring people who call or write to check on me, most of whom I never call or write back because it is just too much. (3) It will be my way of telling you all what is happening with the court/criminal situation, which I know you all want to know, and I end up repeating over and over. 4) It will let me write what I think and feel, which hopefully will help me cope. (5) Who knows what other purpose will evolve? I guess it may turn into a tribute of sorts - to him, maybe to me, maybe to us, maybe to our family. Or it could just be what I do when I don't know what else to do.
So where to start? With his name I think - Kirk. No one around me says it anymore. They say "him" or "he" or nothing at all. His name was Kirk. He was SO alive - I can't fathom that anyone that alive is not anymore. He died on the way to the vet to pick up pills for the dog. He died four miles from home when an idiot with a bad mullet going 110 mph crossed the center line and hit his car. He died while I was at work, on the phone with someone I don't really like. It was a long call, but I'm pretty sure that right around the time he died, the person had told me something funny, and I was laughing. I HATE that I think I was laughing - with someone I don't even like - while Kirk died.
He died almost instantly, but not quite. For those who haven't heard, I now know that a caring stranger stopped to try to help, and did by holding his hand while he died. I don't know her, but will be forever grateful to her. I'm sure she wasn't laughing.
So on to the big question - How Am I Doing? The answer is that it is an impossible question. Those of you who loved him the absolute most (Matt, Erika, his Mom, his Dad , Sandy, Jill, Mark, Nancy, Brian, Kathy, etc., etc.) know that by now. I suspect that like me, you may have come to dread the question because it is so unanswerable.
So I say "as well as can be expected." As if that tells anyone anything. Especially because I now know that what we all would have expected a person who just lost her husband to be feeling is often NOT what I am feeling. Your expectations about what it is like to lose a spouse this way are probably similar to mine. First of all, I would have thought that it would get a little better each day. It hasn't - it is up and down and all over the place, and changes from minute to minute, not day to day. Second, I would have thought that I would be totally incapacitated with grief (at least some of the time). I mean really non-functional - can't get out of bed can't go to work can't sleep without pills cry 100% of the time non-functional. But I am not (this is a complicated subject and too big to elaborate on today - perhaps another day). Third, I would have thought that I would not be able to genuinely laugh and smile at anything, but I can (I don't feel genuinely happy when I do it, but I'm not faking either). Fourth, I would have thought I would bury myself in work, but I don't. Ironically, I go home earlier now than I ever have (sorry honey...). Fifth, I would have thought I would be scared and overwhelmed to live in the house without him, but I am definitely not. I don't like it, and I miss him terribly, but I'm not scared. Sixth, etc., etc. The point is it is not what I expected and too complex to explain. So instead I will ramble, and over time, you will hopefully come to know the answer. Maybe I will too.
So what can you expect next? I'm not really sure. I will write when I want or need to, but probably not more than a few times a week. I suspect it may be more at first and less over time. What will I write? I think it will primarily be two things - whatever is in my head or heart that I need to get out, and updates with new information that I want to share (such as the progress of the case). Feel free to comment and write back, and to give the link to anyone else who might want to read this.
One final comment - you may at times read things here that upset you, and especially may hear me say things that you think I shouldn't feel (like feeling bad about the laughing). I need you all to please not tell me I shouldn't feel that way. I know all that, but it doesn't change anything. I have learned that how I feel is how I feel and no amount of reason or logic changes it - only time will. When people tell me I shouldn't feel something, I know they mean it out of the good of their hearts, but it makes me feel dismissed or like they think I am doing this wrong. The worst is when someone says "he wouldn't want you to feel that way." I DO feel that way - I don't need the burden of feeling like I am letting him down.
Thanks to all of you who care - I may not respond, but you are helping me more than you can know.
For Kirk - I love you. I am missing you right now. Nite nite my love.
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