Our hearts recognized each other
His and mine.
They beat together
Keeping time.
They spoke to each other
When we first met.
That we ended up together
Was no accident.
It was a hitch in the rhythm
A subtle shift in space.
Then our hearts beat as one
Each keeping pace.
Our heart language was beautiful-
Bright and full of light.
It shone through our eyes
And linked our souls tight.
Our hearts were so happy
Looking forward to forever-
Then his heart was silenced
And mine can’t recover.
It struggles to beat solo.
It’s rhythm--scattered.
It’s heart light grows dim
Bleeding, bruised, battered.
Finally feeling a little better today. I had a little more energy to do small things around the house…worked on the last three big finance pieces I have to get straightened out…spoke with my finance guy…getting the “stuff” all figured out. I at least felt productive in between bouts of coughing uncontrollably and needing to rest for a bit.
I’ve had really good people checking on me and taking care of me. My Terri made me homemade chicken noodle soup and a really good purely medicinal brandy “potion”. She also brought chocolate and crossword puzzles. It’s like she knows me or something. My neighbor brought over some yummy bread….carbs can make most things better I’m pretty sure. Jeremy and Cheryl brought me cough medicine and covid tests…so Levi could test…he’s fine. Thanks to everyone that texted or called as well. Very much appreciated when I’m feeling very lonely.
Seth called me on Monday. I hadn’t spoken with him in awhile and it was really good to hear his voice. He sounded happy and content…like things are finally coming together for him after an extremely rough couple of years. I’m glad that he decided to take the plunge and start school. I think it was also a good move for him to get out of the house…even thought he could’ve taken all of his classes online. The change has seemed to do him a lot of good. It makes my Mama heart happy. I did tell him he needs to find some people to play tennis with. There’s a small indoor club in Wausau and I hope he checks it out.
When I look back, it was actually Friday that I started not feeling well, but I brushed it off as the ill effects of crying a lot. Then I woke up yesterday definitely not feeling well…low-grade temp, sore throat, headache, body aches, and a cough. I took a covid test at Noon today and it came back positive. I don’t know if I was lucky enough to get covid twice a month apart, or if it wasn’t gone and is back, or if I have something else entirely and the test was wrong. Only thing I know for sure is I feel pretty horrible.
In 2016 Jason and I took a trip to Belize. I remember us having a conversation on the plane out of the country about how maybe we should have gotten our Will done before going on vacation to a Third World country together. Obviously everything turned out fine and we had an awesome vacation and made it back whole and healthy.
Belize!
That conversation came back to me last night as I was awake coughing in bed…having a hard time catching my breath. And I thought “Nope. Can’t go yet. We never did make up that Will and everything is still such a mess. I refuse to leave that for the kids to figure out”. To be clear, I am not going anywhere anytime soon….everything just seems a little worse when it’s the middle of the night and I’m alone.
I do think quite a bit about how I want to leave things for my kids though…probably because “stuff” has been a bit of a mess for me. I did mention to Jason a few times in the 15 months that he was sick that we could maybe put some things in my name ahead of time…but his brain was just incapable of comprehending what that all meant…and I didn’t have the heart to push it.
I don’t want my kids to have to deal with a lot of “stuff” while they are grieving me. If I have my way I’ll have sold my house…gotten rid of a lot of my stuff…and be in an apartment somewhere with a dog. All the finances will be tied up in a bow and the most they will have to worry about is who gets to keep the dog…who will be adorable. They can cremate me and spread my ashes with Jason’s somewhere. I don’t care where, because I will already be with him at that point.
My post got a little big morbid, but I remember someone…I think Jason’s nurse…saying at one point “Talking about death doesn’t make it happen faster…and not talking about it doesn’t hold it off” Very true.
Yesterday, was the six month anniversary of Jason’s death. Only six months…already six months…either way when I think about it I start to hyperventilate.
On Thursday morning I got to work and immediately knew that there was no way I was going to be able to work Friday. I had it in my head that I wanted to go to Alexandria for the day. Jason and I stayed at a little cabin there for our 20th wedding anniversary. He had had one surgery at that point and hadn’t had any seizures yet. It was the last time he and I got away. The last time he was still himself. Yes, he had headaches and was tired, but we were happy. A little over a month later he had his first seizure and the downward spiral quickened.
Right by the cabin there is a public boat landing and fishing pier and I just wanted to sit there and try to feel close to him somehow. Maybe go out to lunch at Lure Lake Bar…where we went and had dinner on the patio and listened to live music.
Winter put a crimp in my plans…snowing when I woke up…cold…it just didn’t seem like a practical plan. I miss him so much. I would do anything to just somehow feel him close to me…instead I just feel alone, an outsider, a novelty…like people are watching me to see what I’ll do next. Some days I’m pretty sure I’m going to break…somehow I keep going whether I want to or not. I’m not strong. I just keep doing what needs to be done.
It was a pretty horrible day. I tried to get some stuff done around the house. I wrote a lot…but nothing that anyone should ever read. I cried and cried and cried. I saw Jeremy and Cheryl….tried to pick myself up a little bit…
6 months…maybe that’s when the shock wears off and reality hits like a effing sledgehammer. “You don’t deserve happiness” BAM “You held your love in your arms and watched him die” BAM “You can’t do this on your own” BAM “Your future is a big black hole” BAM “You have nothing to look forward to” BAM “You are not enough for your kids” BAM “It should have been you” BAM BAM BAM
Ironically, it feels like six months is when society thinks some “moving on” should be happening. Well, that’s just complete bullshit.
I haven’t been in any sort of “good place” lately. Everything in me is shouting “Retreat! Retreat!” And I can feel myself shutting down…going silent…holding it all in…wanting to just keep to myself. I’m forcing myself to interact with people, but every time I make plans 95% of me screams “No!!! Just cancel”. Once I’m out sometimes I’m okay…have a good time even…but it’s an internal battle to get myself there. I’d like to stay home…wrap myself up in my quilt…bottle of wine and laptop by my side…and just…just what?…nothing…anything…everything…I don’t know.
My prompt today for my Writing Your Grief class was about “shifts in grief”.
“At first, I marked every morning at 8:22 AM…another day that Jason has been gone. Then Wednesdays became my “counting day”…3 weeks that he’s been gone…4 weeks…5 weeks… Around week 20 or so I found myself looking back on a calendar and counting on my fingers…I had forgotten how many weeks it was. Then it was the 4th of every month…except January 4th went by…5 months that he’s been gone and I didn’t mark it. Now I feel February 4th looming this week…6 months…half a year…and I have no idea how that happened.
Time…what is it really? Arbitrary. Sometimes days feel like years. Hours like seconds. What does it matter? He is just gone. And there is too much time stretching out before me. Years and years. I feel like that time means more to other people. They expect me to move on…find another love…be happy again. Time is just a roadblock to me being reunited with my love. That’s all I really want.”
Probably shouldn’t post after three glasses of wine when I’m feeling like a complete mess, but eh…guess I’m going for it.
Funny thing is that my weekend was mostly good. Jeremy and Cheryl came over for dinner and hung out on Friday night. Levi and Jeremy got big ideas in their heads for the basement…our basement has been a huge mess for awhile. I’d really like Levi to have a place he can invite friends over and hang out so on Saturday the four of us (Levi, Jeremy, Cheryl, and I) went out to breakfast and then furniture shopping. We found furniture for the basement and living room upstairs.
It was fun spending the day with them, but also emotionally exhausting. As much as I love hanging out with and seeing Jeremy…and I wouldn’t change that for anything…it is also so damn hard. Maybe I shouldn’t write this here…but I’ll blame it on the wine…days like that are such a reminder of Jason being gone…the missing piece. I laughed it off when the salesguy couldn’t quite figure out our relationship…but inside wasn’t laughing. I imagine it’s similar for Jeremy when he hangs out with me. I probably remind him that his brother is gone.
So then I get home from a day that was fun and I plummet.
Today, Jason’s sister Jackie came over and her, Cheryl, Levi, and I worked on basement clean-up. I was so grateful because I really suck at any big project like that…especially now. I get overwhelmed and freeze. We got so much done today and…again it felt like a good day. Some sad, teary bits…but that happens.
Then everyone left. And I was by myself and I just crash and burn.
And on top of that I have to apologize to a few friends that reached out to me this weekend that I just blew off…ugh. I can just feel myself becoming overwhelmed and scrunching into a ball…like some weird armadillo.
I know that change in my house is good. I need to be able to sit on my couch in my living room without noticing every time how worn out the cushion is from Jason sitting in the same place for 15 months while he was sick. I need to feel like my kids are comfortable hanging out in the house and bringing friends over. I want to feel like my house is a haven…somewhere we can feel safe and relax. That doesn’t mean it’s not hard as hell.
So I’ll drink my wine, choke back my tears as much as I can, and carry on.
In just a few days it will be 6 months that he has been gone. 6 freaking months!!! Half of a year and not a damn thing feels easier. If anything, things have gotten harder. I feel more emotional…angrier…more teary…closer to my breaking point. I’ve been assured that someday I will be happy again…I guess deep down I believe that too…but right now I feel like the most I can hope for is somehow getting “used to” feeling like shit…like part of my heart and soul has been ripped away…and I’ve been left here…shredded apart and bleeding…faking “life”…why???
I feel like I need to scream and rage and weep until I can’t anymore….but you know what? I can’t even do that without Jason here to put my pieces back together. If I let go now I’ll just stay broken.
Ugh…the lump in my throat won’t go away today. A few tears have escaped, but I’m trying to hold my shit together until bedtime. I’m just a ball of burning hot mess express tonight. Anna’s getting ready to go back to school tomorrow. I’m happy for her and proud of her…and still sad. I try to just keep reminding myself that I have been irritated with her for 5 weeks because somehow she is unable to do her own damn dishes.
Work has been different than it used to be. It used to be my escape from stress and now it’s just adding to it. Probably a combination of me just being more stressed to begin with and not able to let things roll of my back as easily…and just frustrating, constant changes. I try to be okay while I’m there…and then I get home and realize how much it’s been building all day long.
I made phone calls today to three more accounts that I need to get taken care of…Jason’s 401k and stuff. So frustrating. On hold for an hour for one of the places and then told I had to be transferred to a different department with a wait time of 90 minutes. Are you kidding me? I got the direct number to the other department and am going to call back a different day. The second place had to “make a change of life case” and now I need to wait for someone to contact me in 3-4 business days. The third place I shouldn’t have called today because I ended up getting all teary and crying on the phone. It was just too much.
I had my grief counseling group after that fiasco. I hate it when everyone else in the group is having a good day and then I’m down.
So now I’m sitting at my desk…writing…trying to make sense of anything right now. I still have a lot in this life that I am so incredibly grateful for…my kids…my friends…my family. But I miss Jason…and without him I don’t feel like myself…and I miss me too.
Be gentle with me
I’m fragile
Broken
Hurting
The smile on the outside hides
The wounds
Bleeding
Oozing
I might appear strong but
I’m weak
Uncertain
Struggling
Without my North Star
I’m lost
Wandering
Homeless
I might say I’m okay
But inside
Screaming
Crying
So please be gentle with me
And realize
That okay for me
Is not today
Have you ever gone through your days wanting to get from activity to activity as fast as possible just so it would be bedtime and you could crawl in bed and sleep and not feel anything for awhile? And when you wake up in the morning you can’t help but feel disappointed as a fresh wave of pain washes over you and the first thought in your head is “f* this life”. And you wonder how you can possibly get through another day. And somehow you do…over…and over. No? You’re lucky.
About a week and a half ago I started a “Writing Your Grief” class. Every morning the class gets a prompt to write about…then we post and are able to read each other’s posts and comment on them. Today the post was about “melancholy”…which was completely fitting because I have been feeling that way A LOT lately…probably also depressed, but somehow “melancholy” sounds more poetic.
Here’s what I wrote today:
“Melancholy suits you like an old comfy hoodie. You know the one. The cuffs on the sleeves are worn. You think twice about wearing it out of the house, but still do because it reminds you of when you met your husband 27 years ago in college. What did you even have to worry about back then?
Melancholy suits you like the zip-up that is two sizes too big that your husband bought on your last family vacation at your favorite resort Up North. He had gained so much weight from the steroids the oncologist put him on that he was barely recognizable as the man you married anymore. You still loved him more than anything in the world. He loved that zip-up. It was nice and roomy and cozy. He wore it all the time. You wish it still carried some of his scent.
Melancholy suits you like the white Calvin Klein dress shirt that your husband wore when he was Best Man at his twin brother’s wedding. He danced with you for the last time that night. He spent the majority of the day in his wheelchair, but when “your song” came on he got up, held you in his arms, and swayed with you one last time. He didn’t even realize you were the only ones dancing and everyone was watching with tears in their eyes. He died 11 days later. You’re wearing that shirt right now.
Melancholy has no need for fancy “going out” clothes. You have pushed those to the back of the closet. No need for dresses, slacks, sweaters, fancy lingerie. None of that fits you anymore. There is only melancholy.”
Love, Tennis, and Cancer 