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...
Thursday, July 30, 2009
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.
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