Let me start by saying this is a good post – I am in a grateful and appreciative mode, at least for the moment, so hopefully you won’t go away depressed.
I have been thinking a lot about who I remember him to be. I am trying not to make a saint out of him. All the books say that it helps to remember that he wasn’t perfect, and I know he wouldn’t want to be thought of as perfect. So I have been trying to remember his flaws, to remember him as human.
Here is what I have so far:
· He had a lot of gas, and considered it a source of both pride and amusement (I guess that just proves he was a guy)
· He chewed too loud
· He couldn’t throw away ANYTHING
· His butt crack showed when he bent over, and he didn’t care
· He procrastinated about chores
· He could be very impatient, and sometimes was short or abrupt
· He smelled pretty bad by the end of hunting season
That’s it – that’s all I’ve got. Pretty perfect, huh? Especially since none of that matters in the least (except maybe the gas…!).
What bugs me about the idea that remembering his flaws will help me deal with his loss is that it implies that because he wasn’t perfect, the marriage wasn’t perfect. And I guess it wasn’t “perfect” in the literal sense. To me, though, it was perfect. Not because we never disagreed, because we did. Not because we never noticed anyone of the opposite sex, because we did (as a matter of fact, I excelled at pointing out to him the pretty women in the freezer section of the grocery store – tee hee). Not because every minute was exciting, because it wasn’t.
So why do I feel like it was “perfect?” After some reflection, I think the answer lies in something our son Matt told me shortly after Kirk died. It was late at night and we were talking on the phone. I told Matt how proud Kirk was of him, and that I hoped he knew that his dad loved him so much, even if we were not always the best parents. He replied that we were the best parents. I said that I knew we really weren’t – we made some bad decisions at times, and there were definitely “do-overs” we would have taken if we could have. I will never forget his answer to me – it was probably the most perceptive thing anyone has ever said to me. He said that that being a great parent doesn’t come from getting it right every time – it comes from always trying to get it right. The actual things we did didn’t determine the quality of our parenting – the constant commitment and genuine attempts did. (All you parents out there are looking at parenting totally differently right now, aren’t you? Such wisdom from someone who is not yet a parent).
I have realized that Matt is right, and that this same thinking works for marriage. It’s not the end result that makes a perfect marriage – it’s the work, the attempts, the commitment, the perseverance (not to mention the laughter, the attraction, the friendship, and all the other easy, fun stuff). And the truth is that Kirk worked harder at it than I did. Not that I didn’t work hard – I did. But in the end, I bet that almost every one of you who is or has been married would agree that there is one person who works harder at the commitment and the appreciation than does the other. For us, that was him. He was the perfect husband – gas or no gas. I like to think that if he knows, wherever he is, that I’m saying this, he is puffing his chest up, sticking his elbows out, and walking around with that Kirk strut (you can see it in your mind can’t you?) and telling everyone he sees, “I’m the perfect husband!”
As inconceivable as it is now, I know myself well enough to know that someday I will probably want another partner. To quote Mr. T, “I pity the fool!” – the fool who has to follow Mr. Perfect.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Signs, or Lack Thereof
More than any other topic, I am now consumed with the afterlife. Whether there is one, and what it is like, and most of all, how it relates to our world. I can’t quite bring myself to believe without proof. I constantly watch for “signs” that he is nearby, or with me somehow. When I talk to him out loud (which I do pretty often) this is one of the most frequent topics – “please send me a sign.” A tall order to give to someone who has no physical self, especially when the recipient is the over-analytical, "prove-it-to-me" freak that I am.
So far, here’s what I’ve got:
· No matter how cold and miserable the weather is when I visit the cemetery, the sun has come out every time I have sat there and asked for a sign
· Codie, who never makes eye contact for very long, has twice stared into my eyes with an intensity I have never seen before (I know - this one is especially lame)
· Three days in a row while I was either not home or was sleeping, a bird somehow got into the house (Kirk really liked birds). The bird and I have a routine now - I open the front door and hold a Swiffer Sweeper up in the air, and he flies out the door.
· When I was at the cemetery one day quietly talking to him out loud about the nature there and how much he would like it, a deer came out of the woods, and four birds landed next to me, and a butterfly or something landed on my head. In my surprise at the butterfly, I of course reacted by whacking it off my head and yelling out loud that there was Nature in my hair. Needless to say, all the members of Nature left.
· His sneakers are still tucked back under the desk in the office right where he left them. I use the office quite a bit, and always push the chair back under the desk. On one of the worst days I have had so far, I came home to find the chair pulled out and turned toward the office door, and one sneaker out in the middle of the room – about 5 feet from where it had been.
· On the plane the other day, after writing the last blog entry, I was feeling really sad, and decided to try to sleep. I put my iPod on and finally dozed off. I woke up later, and the first words I heard were from the end of a Simon and Garfunkel song that we always listened to on the boat, and they were “I love you, girl, Oh I love you.”
And finally, my favorite - on July 25, I was feeling terribly sad and confused about where he is, and wrote the “Where Are You?” entry to the blog. I stayed up very late after posting it because I was too sad to get into bed, but finally at 2 a.m., decided to try to sleep. I went into the office to shut down the computer, and there was a pop up window on the screen. I tried to close it but accidentally opened it instead, and it took me to YouTube, where there was a banner link for a video by Jim Brickman and Lady Antebellum. I had never heard of the song before, and clicked on it only because Kirk loved Jim Brickman (which I used to mock him heartily about due to the geekiness factor), and I love Lady Antebellum. It turned out to be a song called “Never Alone” that they did several years ago before Lady Antebellum was successful. It is about how we even when we are apart from the people we love, their love stays with us and keeps us from being truly alone. The words felt like they were speaking right to me, or like they were what I would say to him.
Are all these things coincidental? Very likely. After each one I tell him that if that was him, I appreciate the effort, but it wasn’t quite good enough – he has to do something that can have NO other explanation in order for me to be sure. I have visions of him sitting there half laughing at how typical of me it is to demand proof, and half exasperated that I expect so much of a person who isn’t even a physical person anymore.
Am I geeky and sappy to think that some of this might actually be him? For sure – but let me tell you, when you lose someone you love so much, you start to grasp at every possibility. Is it ridiculous? Maybe. Or maybe, it’s the beginning of faith - the first crack in the demand for the logical. That would be okay with me. Maybe it’s even what is required of me. Maybe rather than ask so much of him in the way of evidence, the burden is really on me. To let go of the demands and just believe.
Maybe he will someday signal me in a way that leaves no doubt. But if not, I hope one day I will have faith. Not God faith, because to me this question is not a God question. Just Kirk faith, afterlife faith. I’m not there yet, but maybe someday.
In the meantime, maybe, just maybe, he really did send me this song. Whether or not he did, I will share it here (although I would suggest anyone who is interested go to YouTube and listen – it is a very nice song and reading it does not do it justice). It makes me feel sad, happy, comforted, lonely, hopeful, understood – come to think of it, all the feelings I have about him. From him to me, or from me to him, or from him to the kids, or any other way – it works no matter how you interpret it.
So far, here’s what I’ve got:
· No matter how cold and miserable the weather is when I visit the cemetery, the sun has come out every time I have sat there and asked for a sign
· Codie, who never makes eye contact for very long, has twice stared into my eyes with an intensity I have never seen before (I know - this one is especially lame)
· Three days in a row while I was either not home or was sleeping, a bird somehow got into the house (Kirk really liked birds). The bird and I have a routine now - I open the front door and hold a Swiffer Sweeper up in the air, and he flies out the door.
· When I was at the cemetery one day quietly talking to him out loud about the nature there and how much he would like it, a deer came out of the woods, and four birds landed next to me, and a butterfly or something landed on my head. In my surprise at the butterfly, I of course reacted by whacking it off my head and yelling out loud that there was Nature in my hair. Needless to say, all the members of Nature left.
· His sneakers are still tucked back under the desk in the office right where he left them. I use the office quite a bit, and always push the chair back under the desk. On one of the worst days I have had so far, I came home to find the chair pulled out and turned toward the office door, and one sneaker out in the middle of the room – about 5 feet from where it had been.
· On the plane the other day, after writing the last blog entry, I was feeling really sad, and decided to try to sleep. I put my iPod on and finally dozed off. I woke up later, and the first words I heard were from the end of a Simon and Garfunkel song that we always listened to on the boat, and they were “I love you, girl, Oh I love you.”
And finally, my favorite - on July 25, I was feeling terribly sad and confused about where he is, and wrote the “Where Are You?” entry to the blog. I stayed up very late after posting it because I was too sad to get into bed, but finally at 2 a.m., decided to try to sleep. I went into the office to shut down the computer, and there was a pop up window on the screen. I tried to close it but accidentally opened it instead, and it took me to YouTube, where there was a banner link for a video by Jim Brickman and Lady Antebellum. I had never heard of the song before, and clicked on it only because Kirk loved Jim Brickman (which I used to mock him heartily about due to the geekiness factor), and I love Lady Antebellum. It turned out to be a song called “Never Alone” that they did several years ago before Lady Antebellum was successful. It is about how we even when we are apart from the people we love, their love stays with us and keeps us from being truly alone. The words felt like they were speaking right to me, or like they were what I would say to him.
Are all these things coincidental? Very likely. After each one I tell him that if that was him, I appreciate the effort, but it wasn’t quite good enough – he has to do something that can have NO other explanation in order for me to be sure. I have visions of him sitting there half laughing at how typical of me it is to demand proof, and half exasperated that I expect so much of a person who isn’t even a physical person anymore.
Am I geeky and sappy to think that some of this might actually be him? For sure – but let me tell you, when you lose someone you love so much, you start to grasp at every possibility. Is it ridiculous? Maybe. Or maybe, it’s the beginning of faith - the first crack in the demand for the logical. That would be okay with me. Maybe it’s even what is required of me. Maybe rather than ask so much of him in the way of evidence, the burden is really on me. To let go of the demands and just believe.
Maybe he will someday signal me in a way that leaves no doubt. But if not, I hope one day I will have faith. Not God faith, because to me this question is not a God question. Just Kirk faith, afterlife faith. I’m not there yet, but maybe someday.
In the meantime, maybe, just maybe, he really did send me this song. Whether or not he did, I will share it here (although I would suggest anyone who is interested go to YouTube and listen – it is a very nice song and reading it does not do it justice). It makes me feel sad, happy, comforted, lonely, hopeful, understood – come to think of it, all the feelings I have about him. From him to me, or from me to him, or from him to the kids, or any other way – it works no matter how you interpret it.
Never Alone
May the angels protect you
Trouble neglect you
And heaven accept you when it’s time to go home
May you always have plenty
Your glass never empty
And know in your belly
You're never alone
May your tears come from laughing
You find friends worth having
With every year passing
They mean more than gold
May you win but stay humble
Smile more than grumble
And know when you stumble
You're never alone
Never alone
Never alone
I’ll be in every beat of your heart
When you face the unknown
Wherever you fly
This isn't goodbye
My love will follow you stay with you
Baby you’re never alone
Well I have to be honest
As much as I wanted
I’m not gonna promise the cold winds won’t blow
So when hard times have found you
And your fears surround you
Wrap my love around you
You're never alone
Never alone
Never alone
I’ll be in every beat of your heart
When you face the unknown
Wherever you fly
This isn't goodbye
My love will follow you stay with you
Baby you’re never alone
May the angels protect you
Trouble neglect you
And heaven accept you when it’s time to go home
And when hard times have found you
And your fear surrounds you
Wrap my love around you
You’re never alone
Never alone
Never alone
I’ll be in every beat of your heart
When you face the unknown
Wherever you fly
This isn't goodbye
My love will follow you stay with you
Baby you’re never alone
My love will follow you stay with you
Baby you're never alone
YouTube address: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5pXrMPtCVcE
YouTube address: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5pXrMPtCVcE
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
What Were You Thinking?
On another plane. Leaving Erika, on my way to Mark, Nancy, Jennifer. Crying again. Thinking of you. AGAIN.
Thinking of your last minutes. Minute maybe, or even less. How long? From when he hit you to when you died. Not long, I know, but exactly how long I’ll never know.
What did you think? Lots of things, really fast, or nothing at all? Did you only feel? Were you scared? Or sad? Or pissed? Or maybe you were just reacting – trying to swerve, to survive, to avoid the impact.
If you could think, who did you think of? All of us? Your friends, your Mom, your Dad, Codie, Matt and Erika, me? Did you have time for us all? If it’s true that your life flashes before you, then it was all of us. If not, who did you choose? Was it me? You have picked me so many times. In the basement of Howard Johnson’s, on the edge of Niagara Falls, in the Gates Town Hall, in the early years when it was so hard to learn to live together and survive, all the times we argued or I hurt you. Every time you had a choice – should I pick her? Every time, you did. Was it me this time? If so, what did you think? I love her so much? She loves me so much? Is there a difference, or are they both really the same thought?
Did you see “the light?” Did it call you? If so, why did you go? Why did you go why did you go why did you go? I’m not mad at you (yet – all the books say I will be someday) I just want to know why you went. Did you want to? I mean if you saw the light. I know you didn’t want to if there was nothing compelling you, but people say that when you see it you want to go. I want you to have seen it, because it might mean there is something or someplace good waiting for you, somewhere that is happy to be. But if there was, why did you choose it over us all? Over me? When you have always picked me before? Or did you fight, and you lost? I only wanted you to fight if you won. Otherwise it means your last moments were not peaceful and easy.
I still choose you. To remember, to wish for, to miss, to love, to be grateful for, to laugh about. Someday when I die, if I get to choose, I will pick you to think about. And hopefully to go to. I hope there’s a kiss chair there.
Thinking of your last minutes. Minute maybe, or even less. How long? From when he hit you to when you died. Not long, I know, but exactly how long I’ll never know.
What did you think? Lots of things, really fast, or nothing at all? Did you only feel? Were you scared? Or sad? Or pissed? Or maybe you were just reacting – trying to swerve, to survive, to avoid the impact.
If you could think, who did you think of? All of us? Your friends, your Mom, your Dad, Codie, Matt and Erika, me? Did you have time for us all? If it’s true that your life flashes before you, then it was all of us. If not, who did you choose? Was it me? You have picked me so many times. In the basement of Howard Johnson’s, on the edge of Niagara Falls, in the Gates Town Hall, in the early years when it was so hard to learn to live together and survive, all the times we argued or I hurt you. Every time you had a choice – should I pick her? Every time, you did. Was it me this time? If so, what did you think? I love her so much? She loves me so much? Is there a difference, or are they both really the same thought?
Did you see “the light?” Did it call you? If so, why did you go? Why did you go why did you go why did you go? I’m not mad at you (yet – all the books say I will be someday) I just want to know why you went. Did you want to? I mean if you saw the light. I know you didn’t want to if there was nothing compelling you, but people say that when you see it you want to go. I want you to have seen it, because it might mean there is something or someplace good waiting for you, somewhere that is happy to be. But if there was, why did you choose it over us all? Over me? When you have always picked me before? Or did you fight, and you lost? I only wanted you to fight if you won. Otherwise it means your last moments were not peaceful and easy.
I still choose you. To remember, to wish for, to miss, to love, to be grateful for, to laugh about. Someday when I die, if I get to choose, I will pick you to think about. And hopefully to go to. I hope there’s a kiss chair there.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
My New Travel Reality
Today I go see Erika – I am writing this on the plane. I will stay with her for a few days, then go to a lake in the Adirondacks in NY to visit Mark and Nancy and my sister Jennifer and her family. Turns out they both vacation at the same lake the same week every year and we never knew it before.
I have been looking forward to this trip, which will let me spend time with people who are some of the most comforting people for me to be around. Yet I cried most of the way to the airport and I am struggling not to right now. This is the second time I have traveled since the accident, not counting the travel to and from NY for the funeral. I have traveled quite a bit in my career, and never used to mind traveling alone. It’s all different now. I never realized before how important it was to have someone at home. It made the aloneness only temporary, whereas now it is an in-my-face reminder that this is my new life.
Now when I leave for the airport, no one notices (no PERSON anyway). No one looks forward to my return. He doesn’t call me when I’m in the airport; I don’t text him just before I shut down my phone on the plane. I won’t be calling home to tell him I got there safely, and he won’t be saying he misses me already. Traveling alone has become traveling ALONE.
On top of that, it is tough to leave Codie and Charley. Their lives are so different now. Because he worked from home, neither of them has ever had a time in their lives when they were alone all day. It’s hard enough seeing how forlorn they look when I leave for work each day – it’s worse when I leave for a trip. Today Codie tried to follow me to the car – I had to make her go back inside and close the door while she stood there. It makes me feel so sad and guilty. I have a great dog sitter who stays at the house with them, and they love her, but it’s not the same.
On my last trip, I learned that coming home is even worse. I will not call him when I land. All around me, I will hear people on the phone – “I’m here – meet me at…” or “We’re on the ground – I’ll be home soon.” No one will care that I am on the ground, or driving home, and just plain home. The kiss chair will be empty, and no one will have made one of my favorite foods to say “I’m glad you’re back.”
This trip to see Erika is especially hard because we were supposed to go together. Kirk and I had never been to Vegas together at all, much less to visit her. She has lived there for almost four years, and we had still not gotten out there. The timing was always wrong, for us or for her. We had agreed this was the year we would go – no specific date, but likely in June. The week of the accident, we had started looking at dates. He wanted me to play the slots, and kept telling me that if I won a little, I needed to make a big fuss, screaming and jumping up and down (definitely NOT my style). He was convinced that casinos loved people who made a big scene when they won, and that if you did it they would make sure your machine cooperated and you won even more (you will notice it wasn’t HIM who was supposed to act like an idiot in order to test this theory). I am so looking forward to seeing her but can’t help thinking that I should have been doing it with him.
But I will remind myself that the good things in life are still good even though they are not the same, and even though I wish they were. I will still be glad to see Erika, and will still enjoy meeting her friends. I will have a good time at the lake, and I may even let Mark teach me to fish. I will for sure let Sean make me a drink just the way I like it. I know there will be tears over the next few days. Even still, I am hoping that somewhere on this trip I will have the first little moment when my inside happiness comes back.
I have been looking forward to this trip, which will let me spend time with people who are some of the most comforting people for me to be around. Yet I cried most of the way to the airport and I am struggling not to right now. This is the second time I have traveled since the accident, not counting the travel to and from NY for the funeral. I have traveled quite a bit in my career, and never used to mind traveling alone. It’s all different now. I never realized before how important it was to have someone at home. It made the aloneness only temporary, whereas now it is an in-my-face reminder that this is my new life.
Now when I leave for the airport, no one notices (no PERSON anyway). No one looks forward to my return. He doesn’t call me when I’m in the airport; I don’t text him just before I shut down my phone on the plane. I won’t be calling home to tell him I got there safely, and he won’t be saying he misses me already. Traveling alone has become traveling ALONE.
On top of that, it is tough to leave Codie and Charley. Their lives are so different now. Because he worked from home, neither of them has ever had a time in their lives when they were alone all day. It’s hard enough seeing how forlorn they look when I leave for work each day – it’s worse when I leave for a trip. Today Codie tried to follow me to the car – I had to make her go back inside and close the door while she stood there. It makes me feel so sad and guilty. I have a great dog sitter who stays at the house with them, and they love her, but it’s not the same.
On my last trip, I learned that coming home is even worse. I will not call him when I land. All around me, I will hear people on the phone – “I’m here – meet me at…” or “We’re on the ground – I’ll be home soon.” No one will care that I am on the ground, or driving home, and just plain home. The kiss chair will be empty, and no one will have made one of my favorite foods to say “I’m glad you’re back.”
This trip to see Erika is especially hard because we were supposed to go together. Kirk and I had never been to Vegas together at all, much less to visit her. She has lived there for almost four years, and we had still not gotten out there. The timing was always wrong, for us or for her. We had agreed this was the year we would go – no specific date, but likely in June. The week of the accident, we had started looking at dates. He wanted me to play the slots, and kept telling me that if I won a little, I needed to make a big fuss, screaming and jumping up and down (definitely NOT my style). He was convinced that casinos loved people who made a big scene when they won, and that if you did it they would make sure your machine cooperated and you won even more (you will notice it wasn’t HIM who was supposed to act like an idiot in order to test this theory). I am so looking forward to seeing her but can’t help thinking that I should have been doing it with him.
But I will remind myself that the good things in life are still good even though they are not the same, and even though I wish they were. I will still be glad to see Erika, and will still enjoy meeting her friends. I will have a good time at the lake, and I may even let Mark teach me to fish. I will for sure let Sean make me a drink just the way I like it. I know there will be tears over the next few days. Even still, I am hoping that somewhere on this trip I will have the first little moment when my inside happiness comes back.
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