It’s the day before the next hard day, and on this Thanksgiving Eve, I am feeling a strange mixture of sadness and gratitude.
Fall has been tough to watch. Watching the leaves fall outside my window has made me realize that Kirk has already missed one full season. Spring was half happy, because I still had him, and half so mind-numbingly horrible that I never noticed when it became summer. But now I am more aware of the world around me, and seeing fall arrive makes me realize he has missed his first full phase of nature – a summer he never saw, never fished, never complained about bad off-season TV. Thinking about him missing fall is worse. It was his favorite season – the season of beauty, comfortable temperatures, football, and hunting. There are men in camo everywhere, and they make me want to cry – especially the big ones. He was like a little kid at this time of the year – getting all his gear out, taking inventory of what he needed (i.e., what he had lost from last year!), then being cheap with himself and not wanting to buy anything. Researching and planning where to hunt, where to sit. Walking the woods before opening day of each season (turkey, deer with a bow, gun season) to get the lay of the land, look for animal sign, find a good tree for his tree stand. And then shortly before opening day, the time would arrive when I came home from work to find him sitting on the living room floor, dressed in camo from head to toe, not moving. I would say hello and he would act surprised that I had seen him – because he was “invisible” in his camo. The same joke for nearly 30 years – the kids and I all know that Dad’s invisible when he has his camo on.
In my opinion, of all the hunting paraphernalia the head gear was the worst. Depending on the weather and what he was hunting for, he would choose from a variety of options. For bird hunting on warmer days, there was the camo hat that had a narrow brim around the bottom and a chin string. Sounds innocuous I know, but it was the stupidest looking hat you ever saw – and it made his face look huge and triangular. He never believed (or maybe cared) that it looked ridiculous. And how about the camo face net? Used for turkey hunting, it stretched over his entire face except for his eyes, and looked just plain freaky. Then there was the blaze orange Elmer Fudd hat – you know, the kind with the ear flaps? Used for deer hunting on a cold day. And the head gear I hated most of all – the gruesome leather face mask, for super cold days. It was heavy leather, with an elastic strap that ran around the back of his head, and small holes cut in it for eyes, nose and mouth. I am positive it was straight from the set of a horror movie.
His very favorite day of the year was Thanksgiving (followed closely by Groundhog’s Day). In Kirk world, Thanksgiving is the best life has to offer. Family. Incredible food, which he prepared and served with pride and love. Hunting. Football, with a guaranteed Cowboys game on the docket. No work. All the things he valued the most in his life, ALL IN THE SAME DAY. He loved it.
This first Thanksgiving without him, after much deliberation, we have decided to not ignore how Thanksgiving would have been if Kirk were still here. We are not creating all new traditions. Instead, we are passing the mantle. Erika has decided that she will be the food preparer, and that Kirk’s mom will be her teacher. They both arrived yesterday, and have been plotting and planning for weeks. Matt and his girlfriend Jodie are here also, and Erika’s new boyfriend will arrive Thanksgiving morning. The menu will be just like Kirk would have made it, except we are adding green bean casserole as a nod to Jodie’s traditions.
I have been sad as this day approaches, and know I will be sad once I am in it. More than anything though, I actually feel thankful. This has taken me by surprise – I would have expected to feel decidedly UNthankful this year of all years. Instead, I find myself hyper-aware of what I have to feel grateful for. The list is long, but here goes:
Matt and Erika: I could not have asked for better children to have during the most awful time of my life. Despite their own grief, they have from the very first shocking minute been more concerned for me than they are for themselves, and focus more on my needs than their own. I’m not sure this is good for them in the long run, but they are unwilling to even consider the possibility that sometimes I should take care of them rather than the other way around. The list of ways they have helped me is endless. Matt spoke from his heart and gave the best eulogy anyone could have given at the funeral. He picked the burial spot where both Kirk and I will eventually lie, and helped me figure out the words that will mark the stone and tell people for centuries who we were to each other. He (along with Kirk’s Dad and his wife, Sandy) care for Kirk’s grave when I cannot. He worries about me, like when he wanted me to choose a new car that would have OnStar in case anything happens and I am alone and need help. Most importantly of all, he can see things from a perspective that I cannot, and at times explains that viewpoint to me in a way that completely shifts how I feel, and makes me feel a thousand times better, or helps me resolve something I desperately need to resolve. He is not someone who shares his deepest thoughts often, but when he gives them to me, I am astonished at the wisdom and insight that someone so young carries inside.
Erika was incredible in that first week also. She was the one who went with me the first time I saw him after the accident. When we walked in the room, he was there, in the casket, across what seemed like the longest room I had ever been in. It was a shock, seeing him lying there – I had wanted so very badly to see him, but when the moment arrived, I couldn’t breathe, or move. The walk across that room toward him was the longest walk of my life, but she hung on to me and helped me one slow horrible step at a time. She was the one who figured out why he didn't look like Kirk, and what could be done about it, and got the funeral director to fix it so he seemd more like the Kirk we needed to see. Over the next few days, she kept me focused when my mind was so numb and shocked I literally couldn’t make even the smallest decision on my own. Since returning from the funeral, she calls me every single day without fail. She worries about me if she doesn’t reach me, and I don’t call back quickly. She makes me laugh, she plans the vacations we will take, she distracts me when I need it, she talks through things with me when I need that instead. She is my daily caretaker, my cheerleader, the voice on the phone I look forward to at the end of each day. I love these two children more than life, and am so grateful they are mine.
My Family: I don’t even know where to begin. You all have helped me more than you can possibly know. You visit me, you call me, you support me, you write me, you worry about what I eat, you read this blog religiously. You anticipate the challenges for me I do not even see yet (like the Christmas gift buying list, which used to be organized by couples, and you changed to individuals so I do not stand alone and spouseless on the list). Each of you has a specific talent that is unique to you, and that fits just right into one of my needs. My Dad sends me emails of thanks and love that make me feel watched over and cared about. My Mom seems to understand my feelings and emotions in a way that I would not have expected from someone who has not experienced this, and also did me a big favor (which I will not mention in detail but she knows what it is) that removed a lot of stress in the first few months. Dorothy sends me notes of support and caring that always lift me up and make me happy when they arrive in the mail. Of my sisters, Amanda is the “doer” – she and her husband drove all the way here recently, and by the time they left they had taken care of all the things I needed help with and didn’t want to ask the neighbors for (I must have used the phrase “we will need a ladder for this” a dozen times, and found that we never did thanks to Clifford’s long arms and legs!). She also texts me for no reason other than to say she loves me, or even “Good Night, Lis.” Lauren is the philosopher, and like Matt, she helps me see things in a new light because of her view on life and the world. She also NEVER asks how I am doing – instead she uses the phrase “I’m just calling to check in.” SO much better than the unanswerable “how are you doing” question. Susan gave us the gifts of two new Kirk stories at the funeral – the story of how he bought my wedding rings, and the story of how he used to read to the kids when they were little. She gave us wonderful memories and laughter that day, and I will never ever forget it. She also was the person who was due to visit when I suddenly discovered I needed to not have a visit for a while, and was completely unfazed when I asked her not to come. I don’t think I know anyone else who could have so completely understood and accepted my request, and made me feel so completely okay telling her. And Jennifer, who arrived faster than seemed humanly possibly after the accident, and more than perhaps anyone else got me through the most terrible days of my life. She was my secretary, my planner, my interpreter and go-between, my shoulder, my therapist, my fiercest protector, my constant companion for almost the first full month. She has an instinct about what I need and how to respond – or not respond – that never fails. I don’t know if this is because she is the sister most like me (and within our family, our husbands are most alike), or perhaps because of the bond we developed when she was very ill a few years ago and I stayed with and helped her. Regardless of the reason, I am incredibly grateful for everything she has done, and continues to do, for me. And finally, the nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles, etc., who have each helped me in their own way.
Kirk’s Family: From you, I appreciate not just your love and support, but the complete lack of drama. I have met so many people who during their deepest grieving, have had in-law issues over money, or how they expressed their grief, or disagreements over decisions, but you have all been okay with the things I say, do or feel, even though I am sure at times it must not be what you would have expected. You never ever have expected me to be or feel anything other than what I am. You do not judge me harshly if I am sometimes not as distraught as you might expect. You trust me to handle the legal and insurance situations on behalf of all of us. You call me, write me, visit me, send me birthday cards and gifts, keep tabs on me. You still consider me yours, and I am grateful for it, because I still consider you mine.
Our Friends: The list of friends who have helped and made a difference is endless. Friends from every walk of our lives – childhood, Perkins, Sysco, Palmer, E-Z-GO, Valeo, Hansford, Hamlin, Brockport – the list goes on and on. Friends who drove and flew across many states to be with us for the funeral, and friends that still live back home – you made the programs, you organized and served food at the “wake,” you spoke at his funeral, you carried him to his grave. You gave us the best gift of all when you told us story after story about him that we never knew. You email, send cards and gifts, and call me still. And no mention of gratitude I feel for our friends is complete without specific mention of Nancy R. Bonk. Our husbands were best friends for years, so Nancy has been my friend for virtually my entire adulthood. But in the past seven months, our friendship has gone to a place it had never been before. She gets what I am feeling and thinking in a way that almost no one else does, and instinctively knows how to respond. Kirk really loved Nancy, and I know he would be pleased to see what has happened between her and me. The change and growth in our relationship is something I genuinely treasure, and it ranks high on my list of “thank yous” this season.
Our Neighbors and My Co-Workers Here: They have been unbelievable also. They were there when I learned I had lost him, and they have been there ever since. Because of them, magic happens – soup appears, light bulbs and air filters get changed, mail and newspapers are brought to my door, garbage cans are returned to their rightful place, my garage door gets closed if I accidentally leave it open, the dogs get rounded up and brought home when the landscaper forgets to close the fence, my boat gets towed where it needs to go, sprinkler settings are changed with the seasons, my house is cared for when I am away, the closet door that needed planing now opens properly, the septic system always has chlorine in it. They still invite me to “couples” dinners, they find grief resources for me. They pulled me into their fold when I needed it most, and seem to plan to keep me.
The Strangers Who Read this Blog: You are the biggest surprise of all, and one of the most welcome. I am astonished when I hear from one of you who has been quietly reading without my knowledge (thank you and welcome to Katie, the latest stranger to send me a note). You too help me more than you realize. I am not sure why, but I feel so comforted to hear that you are there. No matter how much I write I am only telling you the tiniest bits of who Kirk was, but I still love that you listen.
What I am most thankful for from everyone on this long list is that you help me keep him alive. For a long time my greatest fear was that he would be forgotten, but thanks to all of you, I am slowly realizing that I am not the only one who will not let that happen. I am incredibly lucky to be blessed with people who love and care for me, Kirk, and our children so very much.
And on this day before Thanksgiving, I am grateful for Kirk. I hesitate to type these next words, because they feel so wrong in a way, but here it is - I am the luckiest person on earth. He wouldn’t have been the right husband for everyone, but he was absolutely the best husband for me. One of the things I think about a lot now is how fortunate my kids are to have been witness to our marriage. Until this happened, I had a general idea of what they thought of us as a couple. But now I know more from them what their memories of us are, and I have a whole new appreciation for the value they will get from having watched us. They did not see a fairy tale – they saw something real, and imperfect, yet still strong and committed. They saw two people who didn’t always agree, and at times got angry, but who always managed to get through it. Two people who genuinely liked, delighted in, and cared for each other. Two people who remained publicly affectionate and didn’t fall into the trap of living side by side rather than together. Two people who never, ever painted each other with the “wife as ball and chain” or “husband as lazy and in need of nagging” stereotypes. We were two people who loved each other openly and completely, for everyone to see, and hopefully for our children to emulate someday.
I have not mentioned this to most of you yet, but I am having some changes made to the stone on our graves. The front will be unchanged. But if you go there, walk around to the back. Soon there will be new words. Words I struggled to get right – right for the past, and right for the future. Words that will say who we were to each other - words that will be timeless. Here they are:
Their love, deep and true,
Was strengthened by life,
And is undiminished by death.
Happy Thanksgiving, my love.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Loss of Feeling
I saw him today. The person who killed Kirk – I saw him for the first time. There was an arraignment, and I went, and he was there. Cleaned up now – no more mullet, decent pants and sport coat. But the face was unmistakable – still young, still pudgy, still blank. I was very nervous ahead of time about seeing him. I thought I would be overwhelmed. With anger, or sadness, or both. That maybe I would want to hit him. Or confront him, to make sure he knows how he has hurt us. Or to look in his eyes and ask why – what is the TRUTH of that day?
But incredibly, I felt nothing at all. Just empty, and lonely, and a little sick to my stomach. But no emotion toward him whatsoever. I couldn’t believe it – I was (and still am) shocked at myself.
What is wrong with me? How could I see the person who killed – KILLED – the person I loved so much, lived with every day, was supposed to grow old with, and feel no feelings? I have let Kirk down again. I know what you are all thinking reading this. You are protesting, composing the email you will send me or message you will leave me – “don’t feel that way,” or “you haven’t failed him.” I think I have though. It has to be a failure to be unable to muster up any emotion toward a person I should feel so much about. If someone had killed me, I know Kirk would be so angry for me, for him, for the kids, for everyone else. But I had nothing. I haven’t felt anger at this person for so long, but I thought seeing him would trigger it. I don’t understand myself.
As I sat in the car afterward, I tried to sort out my feelings – or lack thereof. At first, my analytical nature kicked in – feebly - as I tried to figure it out. Maybe I am numb. Or still in denial. Or unable to connect this harmless looking person with the awful thing that he did. But I gave up – I have no energy anymore for analysis. I just know I didn’t feel anything. Except for when I was in the hall afterward and had to choose whether to walk within two feet of him, or hang back. I started toward him, but turned back after a few steps. I couldn’t do it – come so close to him. It was like there was a field surrounding him I couldn’t bring myself to enter. I don’t know what I thought would happen – that I would shove him? Give away my presence, let on who I was? Start to cry? All I know is that there was no way I was getting so close to the person who sent Kirk so far away.
When I left the courthouse, I drove for a while, not going anywhere in particular. I ended up sitting in parking lot thinking some more. As I sat there, I realized that nearly two years ago I sat in the same parking lot. It was the day before I interviewed for my job here, and I had arrived a day early so I could look at the area. I pulled into the parking lot to look at a map, and while I was looking, Kirk called me. I remember the call – he got online and was looking at the area also, and we talked about where I should go to look around. Our goal was to try to see what the neighborhoods in the area were like. We were hoping to find an area near the water, so we would have easy access with the boat. Kirk realized that I was just a couple of miles from a lake, and got excited because it looked like there was a neighborhood with easy water access, so he asked me to go there. I did, and we talked the whole way, only to find that the “neighborhood” he saw on the map was part run down trailer park and part crazy religious compound. We laughed and talked about which one we would fit better in, and decided the trailer park was the place for us. It made me sad and happy today to sit in the spot where we had a happy, normal conversation, about the promise of a new phase of our lives.
I apologize for disappearing on all of you for so long. I know it has worried you. It’s not just the blog I have been neglecting – it’s the estate attorneys, the financial planners, the tombstone company, the insurance companies. I owe them all answers, and I have ignored them all. I have been busy, but that wasn’t really why. I think it is mostly that I have been so empty. Sad at times, but mostly just empty, almost devoid of feeling, and not thinking much either – I just haven’t been able to summon up the energy for it. No feeling and thinking means nothing to say, no need to write. Today seems to have caused a crack in that though. Soon after I left the courthouse I discovered I seem to be “feeling” a little again. Weird to say, but I hope if feeling is coming back that it’s sadness. I’m not ready to be done with the sadness yet.
As I start writing again, here is what I most want to say. I LOVE KIRK. When I don’t write, there is no one to say it to, and now that I am writing again it feels like it’s all that wants to come out of my fingers. I LOVE KIRK I LOVE KIRK I LOVE KIRK. You are the only audience that makes me feel like I can say it as much as I want, so I hope you’re still out there.
Enough for tonight – I will be back soon.
But incredibly, I felt nothing at all. Just empty, and lonely, and a little sick to my stomach. But no emotion toward him whatsoever. I couldn’t believe it – I was (and still am) shocked at myself.
What is wrong with me? How could I see the person who killed – KILLED – the person I loved so much, lived with every day, was supposed to grow old with, and feel no feelings? I have let Kirk down again. I know what you are all thinking reading this. You are protesting, composing the email you will send me or message you will leave me – “don’t feel that way,” or “you haven’t failed him.” I think I have though. It has to be a failure to be unable to muster up any emotion toward a person I should feel so much about. If someone had killed me, I know Kirk would be so angry for me, for him, for the kids, for everyone else. But I had nothing. I haven’t felt anger at this person for so long, but I thought seeing him would trigger it. I don’t understand myself.
As I sat in the car afterward, I tried to sort out my feelings – or lack thereof. At first, my analytical nature kicked in – feebly - as I tried to figure it out. Maybe I am numb. Or still in denial. Or unable to connect this harmless looking person with the awful thing that he did. But I gave up – I have no energy anymore for analysis. I just know I didn’t feel anything. Except for when I was in the hall afterward and had to choose whether to walk within two feet of him, or hang back. I started toward him, but turned back after a few steps. I couldn’t do it – come so close to him. It was like there was a field surrounding him I couldn’t bring myself to enter. I don’t know what I thought would happen – that I would shove him? Give away my presence, let on who I was? Start to cry? All I know is that there was no way I was getting so close to the person who sent Kirk so far away.
When I left the courthouse, I drove for a while, not going anywhere in particular. I ended up sitting in parking lot thinking some more. As I sat there, I realized that nearly two years ago I sat in the same parking lot. It was the day before I interviewed for my job here, and I had arrived a day early so I could look at the area. I pulled into the parking lot to look at a map, and while I was looking, Kirk called me. I remember the call – he got online and was looking at the area also, and we talked about where I should go to look around. Our goal was to try to see what the neighborhoods in the area were like. We were hoping to find an area near the water, so we would have easy access with the boat. Kirk realized that I was just a couple of miles from a lake, and got excited because it looked like there was a neighborhood with easy water access, so he asked me to go there. I did, and we talked the whole way, only to find that the “neighborhood” he saw on the map was part run down trailer park and part crazy religious compound. We laughed and talked about which one we would fit better in, and decided the trailer park was the place for us. It made me sad and happy today to sit in the spot where we had a happy, normal conversation, about the promise of a new phase of our lives.
I apologize for disappearing on all of you for so long. I know it has worried you. It’s not just the blog I have been neglecting – it’s the estate attorneys, the financial planners, the tombstone company, the insurance companies. I owe them all answers, and I have ignored them all. I have been busy, but that wasn’t really why. I think it is mostly that I have been so empty. Sad at times, but mostly just empty, almost devoid of feeling, and not thinking much either – I just haven’t been able to summon up the energy for it. No feeling and thinking means nothing to say, no need to write. Today seems to have caused a crack in that though. Soon after I left the courthouse I discovered I seem to be “feeling” a little again. Weird to say, but I hope if feeling is coming back that it’s sadness. I’m not ready to be done with the sadness yet.
As I start writing again, here is what I most want to say. I LOVE KIRK. When I don’t write, there is no one to say it to, and now that I am writing again it feels like it’s all that wants to come out of my fingers. I LOVE KIRK I LOVE KIRK I LOVE KIRK. You are the only audience that makes me feel like I can say it as much as I want, so I hope you’re still out there.
Enough for tonight – I will be back soon.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Grand Jury Outcome
Just a quick update to let you that David N. Cook (the driver who caused the accident) has been indicted for manslaughter. It will be quite a while yet before next steps happen - first it will be assigned to a different prosecutor. I have been assured that I will be told who it is assigned to, and that I should have the opportunity to meet with him/her before any plea discussions happen, but that I may not hear anything for several weeks at least. For now though I am relieved to be over this first big hurdle.
Thank you all for caring.
Thank you all for caring.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Ring Stories
I wear three rings and there is a story for each. They bring me comfort now – they feel like my link to the past. Reminders that are with me – on me – every minute, no matter where I go. I can look at them and remember the stories, and what they say about who he was, what our history was. I take better care of them than I ever have – I take them off when I wash my hands, I clean them regularly, I inspect them to make sure the prongs are strong.
On my right hand I wear a ring he gave me about 15 years ago. It all started when I went to the mall to run an errand one day on my lunch break. I took care of the errand, and on my way out, stopped in a jewelry store on the edge of the food court. I stopped to “visit” a particular ring. Gold, with an emerald cut sapphire, and three diamonds on either side in a stair step formation. I loved the ring, and had been admiring it for months. I never would have bought it for myself, or told him about it. We could have afforded it, but it would have been self-indulgent. There were too many other things more important to our family.
As I was standing there, I glanced up, and across the food court, there was Kirk. He was in the entrance to Penneys, and saw me at the same time I saw him. Such a small thing, seeing each other by surprise in a place neither of us would normally be at that time. We were excited and happy to see each other – a treat in the middle of an ordinary day. It was especially surprising because he HATED the mall, and virtually never went there. He thought JC Penney was the height of fashion, or good enough – I’m not sure which. Its primary appeal to him was that it carried everything he needed and could be accessed by an exterior door to the parking lot so he never had to enter the actual mall. Even so, I generally shopped for him. That day, though, he decided he needed something and went there the same time I did.
We walked to meet each other, and he asked what I was doing. I said I was visiting a ring. He asked what I was talking about and I explained, and took him over to see it. Then we had lunch and both went back to work.
About three days later, I came home from work to find the table set for dinner and a box on my plate. Sure enough, the ring was inside. No reason – not my birthday, Christmas, anniversary, Mother’s Day. Like the flowers he often bought, he gave it to me just to make me happy. I was uncomfortable with it – I knew it was expensive, and kept thinking of all the other things we could do with the money. He insisted I keep it. In many ways it is my favorite ring because the only story behind it is his desire to surprise me and make me happy.
On my left hand is a diamond ring. I like it, but it is my least favorite ring and has no emotional value. It is a replacement ring, purchased with insurance money after a ring I loved was either lost or stolen. That first ring was an anniversary ring that Kirk gave me maybe 12 years ago. It was an anniversary gift, and had 5 graduated marquis diamonds with two baguettes on each side. I was shocked when he gave it to me – I had no idea he was planning it. I found out later that when he shopped for it, he knew he wanted an anniversary ring, but had no idea what style. He picked it by having the saleswoman put on one style at a time, then watching her from a distance while she attended to other customers. She told me he had her wear each style for at least ten minutes. He just waited in the store for hours, watching how each ring looked on her hand as she worked. Then he picked the one he thought had the most sparkle and color as she moved. I love the thought of him standing there for so long, focusing on picking just the right one. So much more commitment than most people would put into the choosing. I loved that ring, but six years ago, I was in an airport, about to go through security, when I realized a prong in the ring was loose and I was about to lose a diamond. I took the ring off and zipped it into an inside pocket of my purse. I didn’t look in the pocket again until I got back home – three airports and two security searches later. The ring was gone, never to be found – either lost or stolen during one of the searches I assume. I didn’t file the insurance claim for months, because I kept searching for it, refusing to accept it was gone. Finally I had to acknowledge it was, and the insurance company accepted the claim, but I still couldn’t bring myself to buy a replacement. I looked and looked for a full year, never finding another ring like he had chosen, or one I loved nearly as much. After twelve months the insurance company told me if I didn’t pick something else they would have to close the claim, so I finally bought the ring I wear now. It is pretty and I like it, but I feel no attachment to it, other than when I look at it, I think of the one it replaced, and of him standing there watching a strange woman’s hands.
And finally, most importantly, the wedding band I now wear on my left ring finger. It was his. This is the longest story of all.
We eloped (a story I know I have not yet told you, but I will someday). We were broke, and had no rings. Instead, we put a matching set on layaway at Nusbaum’s I think - one of those old catalog showrooms (those of you under 40 will not know what this is because they don’t exist anymore). But before they were paid off, money became so tight we couldn’t afford the payments anymore, so we cancelled the layaway, got a refund, and promised each other we would get them someday. I am so glad now we never finished the payments, because in retrospect, the rings we picked were hideous and I would not be happy with them today.
We were “ringless” for several years after this. As a matter of fact, I remember being told by my sister Lauren that one day she was going to meet a friend for breakfast, and when they discussed where to meet, the friend wanted to go to a particular Perkins. She said there was a hot single guy who worked there that she had been eyeing for quite a while and she wanted Lauren to see him. They met and got seated, and pretty soon the friend pointed and said “There he is!” Lauren looked over toward the kitchen, and there was Kirk. She asked her friend what made her think that guy was single, and the friend said she had checked it out and he didn’t wear a ring. You can imagine the friend’s surprise when Kirk walked over to Lauren and they clearly knew each other – Lauren took great delight in informing her that the hot guy was her brother in law.
After being married about three years, Kirk bought me a wedding ring and small diamond engagement ring. They were very pretty, and fit together with a small hook shaped prong so they stayed connected. They came from JC Penney (tee hee – maybe that’s where his passion for Penneys was born), and many of you heard the story from my sister Susan at his funeral. He bought them using her employee discount, on sale, and on layaway. As you can guess, we were still pretty broke. Susan did a great job of helping him pick them out, and I loved them. I wore them both until he gave me the anniversary ring. Art that point, I stopped wearing the engagement ring, and wore the wedding band with the anniversary ring on my left ring finger, and the sapphire on my right. I still have that little engagement ring, but don’t wear it because the little hook in it doesn’t allow for wearing it alone. Someday I will have it reworked so I can wear it again.
Kirk remained ringless for many more years. It never bothered me, and he wasn’t really a jewelry person, so we didn’t do anything about it. But about ten years ago or so, he started having a real desire to have one. In his typical fashion, he didn’t want to spend the money on himself. Finally I convinced him to go shopping for one, and we picked one out. White and yellow gold. And as it turns out, spinnable. He loved to take it off, turn it on its side, and spin it on a table. It would spin forever once he got good at it. He loved that ring and always wore it once he had it.
His ring is mine now. When I had to tell the funeral director if he should be buried with it on, I didn’t know what to do. Burying it with him didn’t feel right, and I really wanted it as a memory of him. But burying him without it didn’t seem right either. Finally I figured it out. We had never exchanged rings in life – each of us came by our rings over time, separately. So instead, we exchanged them after he was gone. I kept his, and I gave him mine. It was, of course, too small to fit on his finger. So they tucked it into his hand, and he was buried holding it. I had his cut down to fit me, and now I wear it every day. It is the most important ring of all. Someday Erika and Matt will decide whether I should be buried with it, or if they want it, and whatever they decide will be okay with me. But for now, it is my link to him – every day I think about the fact that his finger was in it for years before mine, and it brings me comfort.
I am thinking about Kirk a lot tonight. I think about him every night of course, but tonight the thoughts are different. I feel a responsibility to him, to his loss, in a way I have not before. Tomorrow is grand jury day, and I am nervous. It’s the first big step in this process, the first time someone could tell me that the system does not agree that a crime occurred. What if they think it was just an “accident?” Tragic, but not criminal? I am realizing that although I have not assumed the other driver would eventually be convicted, I have been assuming he would be indicted. If he isn’t, it all stops. Done. No consequences, no responsibility taken. If that happens, I will be upset and angry, and I will question myself. Did I not push the DA enough? Not question the police enough? Should I have insisted on knowing what witnesses they were presenting, what evidence they planned to present? Should I have been louder, more insistent, so someone would have prepared more? I hope I will not have to face these questions – I’ve faced enough already.
On my right hand I wear a ring he gave me about 15 years ago. It all started when I went to the mall to run an errand one day on my lunch break. I took care of the errand, and on my way out, stopped in a jewelry store on the edge of the food court. I stopped to “visit” a particular ring. Gold, with an emerald cut sapphire, and three diamonds on either side in a stair step formation. I loved the ring, and had been admiring it for months. I never would have bought it for myself, or told him about it. We could have afforded it, but it would have been self-indulgent. There were too many other things more important to our family.
As I was standing there, I glanced up, and across the food court, there was Kirk. He was in the entrance to Penneys, and saw me at the same time I saw him. Such a small thing, seeing each other by surprise in a place neither of us would normally be at that time. We were excited and happy to see each other – a treat in the middle of an ordinary day. It was especially surprising because he HATED the mall, and virtually never went there. He thought JC Penney was the height of fashion, or good enough – I’m not sure which. Its primary appeal to him was that it carried everything he needed and could be accessed by an exterior door to the parking lot so he never had to enter the actual mall. Even so, I generally shopped for him. That day, though, he decided he needed something and went there the same time I did.
We walked to meet each other, and he asked what I was doing. I said I was visiting a ring. He asked what I was talking about and I explained, and took him over to see it. Then we had lunch and both went back to work.
About three days later, I came home from work to find the table set for dinner and a box on my plate. Sure enough, the ring was inside. No reason – not my birthday, Christmas, anniversary, Mother’s Day. Like the flowers he often bought, he gave it to me just to make me happy. I was uncomfortable with it – I knew it was expensive, and kept thinking of all the other things we could do with the money. He insisted I keep it. In many ways it is my favorite ring because the only story behind it is his desire to surprise me and make me happy.
On my left hand is a diamond ring. I like it, but it is my least favorite ring and has no emotional value. It is a replacement ring, purchased with insurance money after a ring I loved was either lost or stolen. That first ring was an anniversary ring that Kirk gave me maybe 12 years ago. It was an anniversary gift, and had 5 graduated marquis diamonds with two baguettes on each side. I was shocked when he gave it to me – I had no idea he was planning it. I found out later that when he shopped for it, he knew he wanted an anniversary ring, but had no idea what style. He picked it by having the saleswoman put on one style at a time, then watching her from a distance while she attended to other customers. She told me he had her wear each style for at least ten minutes. He just waited in the store for hours, watching how each ring looked on her hand as she worked. Then he picked the one he thought had the most sparkle and color as she moved. I love the thought of him standing there for so long, focusing on picking just the right one. So much more commitment than most people would put into the choosing. I loved that ring, but six years ago, I was in an airport, about to go through security, when I realized a prong in the ring was loose and I was about to lose a diamond. I took the ring off and zipped it into an inside pocket of my purse. I didn’t look in the pocket again until I got back home – three airports and two security searches later. The ring was gone, never to be found – either lost or stolen during one of the searches I assume. I didn’t file the insurance claim for months, because I kept searching for it, refusing to accept it was gone. Finally I had to acknowledge it was, and the insurance company accepted the claim, but I still couldn’t bring myself to buy a replacement. I looked and looked for a full year, never finding another ring like he had chosen, or one I loved nearly as much. After twelve months the insurance company told me if I didn’t pick something else they would have to close the claim, so I finally bought the ring I wear now. It is pretty and I like it, but I feel no attachment to it, other than when I look at it, I think of the one it replaced, and of him standing there watching a strange woman’s hands.
And finally, most importantly, the wedding band I now wear on my left ring finger. It was his. This is the longest story of all.
We eloped (a story I know I have not yet told you, but I will someday). We were broke, and had no rings. Instead, we put a matching set on layaway at Nusbaum’s I think - one of those old catalog showrooms (those of you under 40 will not know what this is because they don’t exist anymore). But before they were paid off, money became so tight we couldn’t afford the payments anymore, so we cancelled the layaway, got a refund, and promised each other we would get them someday. I am so glad now we never finished the payments, because in retrospect, the rings we picked were hideous and I would not be happy with them today.
We were “ringless” for several years after this. As a matter of fact, I remember being told by my sister Lauren that one day she was going to meet a friend for breakfast, and when they discussed where to meet, the friend wanted to go to a particular Perkins. She said there was a hot single guy who worked there that she had been eyeing for quite a while and she wanted Lauren to see him. They met and got seated, and pretty soon the friend pointed and said “There he is!” Lauren looked over toward the kitchen, and there was Kirk. She asked her friend what made her think that guy was single, and the friend said she had checked it out and he didn’t wear a ring. You can imagine the friend’s surprise when Kirk walked over to Lauren and they clearly knew each other – Lauren took great delight in informing her that the hot guy was her brother in law.
After being married about three years, Kirk bought me a wedding ring and small diamond engagement ring. They were very pretty, and fit together with a small hook shaped prong so they stayed connected. They came from JC Penney (tee hee – maybe that’s where his passion for Penneys was born), and many of you heard the story from my sister Susan at his funeral. He bought them using her employee discount, on sale, and on layaway. As you can guess, we were still pretty broke. Susan did a great job of helping him pick them out, and I loved them. I wore them both until he gave me the anniversary ring. Art that point, I stopped wearing the engagement ring, and wore the wedding band with the anniversary ring on my left ring finger, and the sapphire on my right. I still have that little engagement ring, but don’t wear it because the little hook in it doesn’t allow for wearing it alone. Someday I will have it reworked so I can wear it again.
Kirk remained ringless for many more years. It never bothered me, and he wasn’t really a jewelry person, so we didn’t do anything about it. But about ten years ago or so, he started having a real desire to have one. In his typical fashion, he didn’t want to spend the money on himself. Finally I convinced him to go shopping for one, and we picked one out. White and yellow gold. And as it turns out, spinnable. He loved to take it off, turn it on its side, and spin it on a table. It would spin forever once he got good at it. He loved that ring and always wore it once he had it.
His ring is mine now. When I had to tell the funeral director if he should be buried with it on, I didn’t know what to do. Burying it with him didn’t feel right, and I really wanted it as a memory of him. But burying him without it didn’t seem right either. Finally I figured it out. We had never exchanged rings in life – each of us came by our rings over time, separately. So instead, we exchanged them after he was gone. I kept his, and I gave him mine. It was, of course, too small to fit on his finger. So they tucked it into his hand, and he was buried holding it. I had his cut down to fit me, and now I wear it every day. It is the most important ring of all. Someday Erika and Matt will decide whether I should be buried with it, or if they want it, and whatever they decide will be okay with me. But for now, it is my link to him – every day I think about the fact that his finger was in it for years before mine, and it brings me comfort.
I am thinking about Kirk a lot tonight. I think about him every night of course, but tonight the thoughts are different. I feel a responsibility to him, to his loss, in a way I have not before. Tomorrow is grand jury day, and I am nervous. It’s the first big step in this process, the first time someone could tell me that the system does not agree that a crime occurred. What if they think it was just an “accident?” Tragic, but not criminal? I am realizing that although I have not assumed the other driver would eventually be convicted, I have been assuming he would be indicted. If he isn’t, it all stops. Done. No consequences, no responsibility taken. If that happens, I will be upset and angry, and I will question myself. Did I not push the DA enough? Not question the police enough? Should I have insisted on knowing what witnesses they were presenting, what evidence they planned to present? Should I have been louder, more insistent, so someone would have prepared more? I hope I will not have to face these questions – I’ve faced enough already.
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