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.
Monday, July 27, 2009
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.
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