First, a bit of housekeeping. When I posted the entry below called “The Case,” I included a link copied from the Sheriff’s department website that was supposed to take you to the profile and mug shot of the person who caused the accident. I realized today that the link was connected to the wrong suspect. I have fixed it, and if you click on it now, it will take you to the right record.
Now on to the real topic of the day -
This blog thing seems to be helping me. Much more than I anticipated, actually. When I am really overwhelmed by something, and I write it down, the pressure, frustration, pain, sadness, or whatever I feel eases considerably. The feelings are still there, but they are much more manageable, and I seem to be able to breathe more easily.
Another thing that is really helping is hearing from all of you. Thank you so much for the support and encouragement you are providing. Some of you have chosen to be public about the fact that you read this, and have listed yourself as Followers. Many more have called or emailed to let me know that you are reading. A couple of you have told me that you read the whole thing, from the very first entry, every single day. Others have said that after a new entry, you talk about it at work with co-workers who also read it, and remember him together. I suspect there are others who read it, but have given me no sign.
Lots of you have thanked me for sharing my thoughts and feelings, because it is helping you cope with losing him. This is a reaction I never expected – I knew it would help you know what was going on with me, but had not realized it might help with your own sadness. I am glad it has. I often hear that reading makes you cry. That is never my intent, but I guess it’s part of the package right about now.
Some have wondered about how the kids, his parents, and other family members are doing. I appreciate you asking, and I know they do too, but I intentionally do not write about them. I don’t think it’s right for me to speak for them - this experience is too personal and individual. I could not possibly accurately represent how they are doing (I have enough trouble trying to capture my own feelings in any logical and understandable way!). I will say that they have found the same thing I have – that our feelings change constantly, that much of what we are feeling is unexpected, that this is not a predictable or logical process. That’s about all that I can say on their behalf. I also don’t post pictures of them (at least not current ones) because I feel that it’s not my place to post anything with them on it in such a public forum. (Note to family – if you do want to say something, email it to me and I will post it.)
When I started the blog, I was struggling with being surrounded each day by people who did not know him and do not talk about him. I continue to have a hard time with this. But by writing about him and about the experience of losing him, I have figured out that the issue is bigger than people not talking about him. I find that when I write an entry, I often have an unbidden sense of relief as I finish. In my analytical way, I tried to figure out why - where was relief coming from?
And that's how writing and “publishing” all of this helped me identify one of my biggest issues. Here it is – I have a tremendous fear that Kirk will be forgotten. I had not consciously realized that I was worried about this until I realized that the relief came from feeling like I have created a record of him out in the world, for anyone to see, that no one can take away. A memorial of sorts, I guess. That was never my intent, but it is a key part of what is helping me. I know logically that those of you who knew him well will not forget him. He had too big of a personality for that. But as I have learned, logic does not triumph over emotion right now, and emotionally, I still fear he will not live on in your minds. That’s why I like that so many people seem to be reading this. By writing it, and you reading it, I get to poke you – remember him, remember him, remember him…
He was certainly worth remembering, wasn’t he? I feel like in a way we literally owe it to him. If you really knew Kirk, I know he gave you something. It may have been advice, service, help, perspective, or encouragement. Maybe he challenged you to think beyond your own opinion or to be better at something than you thought you could be – he did that for lots of people. He may have loved you, and if he did you are really fortunate. He most likely gave you LOTS of food and hospitality. But if nothing else, he gave you laughter – even more laughter than food. It was the very essence of Kirk – humor. The least we can do in return is think about him sometimes, tell a story about him, smile to ourselves about him. Not every minute, maybe not even every day, depending on how close you were to him. But sometimes, remember him.
What will we remember? I mean SPECIFICALLY what will any of us retain of him? One of the things I hate is that even for me, some things are blurry – and getting more blurry as time passes. I know there are events, stories, experiences that I am not retaining, and I want every single one. I am starting to not remember exactly what he looked like - I know he had a scar about a centimeter long on one cheek, but which cheek? And why don’t I know how he got it? I also can’t hear his voice in my head at all – I have to listen to it recorded. So what do I remember? I saw a quote the other day from Maya Angelou that describes it perfectly. “I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” That’s it for me – more than anything I remember how he made me feel.
Unlike most of us, he had no wish to die peacefully, of old age, in his sleep. Nothing so tame for him. He always told me that he wanted to live to be old, and then die saving the life of a child. He thought it would be perfect to live a long life and then have it end as he rescued someone with a lot of living yet to do. He didn’t get his wish, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t leave something worth remembering. So keep reading, okay? I’ll keep poking.
We ♥ Kirk.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Funny you should say you fear that your husband will be forgotten. I fear the same thing. I, too, find it difficult to remember his voice, his walk, and his touch. All I recall is his cold body on the table in the ER. My visions of him come from pictures. Why can't I remember? I fear my children won't remember either. I guess it all goes along with this horrible experience. Keep on remembering. Keep on talking. He will be remembered.
ReplyDelete