2 years

September 24, 2015

I'm finally home!

       Snuggled  up high with tons of feathers pillows and in my own bed.  Gizmo's curled up in a little fluff ball next to me. It's 6:00 am.  Sun isn't up yet so its dark outside my 2 huge windows looking out at what looks to be a very rainy day coming up.  Which will be so nice!  A day to match my mood and yet lift mine at the same time.   I love a rainy day.  Especially ones with serious lightening and thunder.  Probably cause I grew up in drought-dry California.
     I got home last night close to 11:00 pm.  Home! After  2 1/2 weeks cruising the Mediterranean, Adriatic, and some other sea I can't recall the name of right now.  I traveled with Amie.  After the 12 night cruise, we spent four additional days meandering through Florence and Rome, Italy.  My dream trip.  Now over.
     Lots of beds. Lots of things with wheels....planes, trains, buses, taxis.  Lots of walking. And one Cruise Ship.  But that wasn't the common denominator of the trip.  Because the common denominator of that trip is the one that remains the same every day of my life.
 
      Seeing lots.... and lots.... of "old-married" couples. I can't get away from them.  Whether it's at home or anywhere else...they're everywhere.   'Specially on this cruise.  Not that they're not delightful.  We had a fantastic dining table group....all were older couples....mostly my age or a bit older.   One celebrating 30 years. So sweet were they all!  We met none close to Amies' age this trip.  But she didn't care.  We both knew we got lucky on our table group.

      There's nothing one can do to change the fact that simply seeing married couples remains painful.  Probably it's the same for divorced people and it's not just hard for widows and widowers.  But the old-marrieds...they're the most painful.  Yet,  the husband and wife in the oldest couple at our table had both been widowed before...about 2- 3 years prior actually.  ( They were actually "dating").  And were in their 70's ;).   It was soothing to talk with them briefly about losing Mike and dealing with widowhood.  Especially because they both "got" what it is like to be not quite 2 years out.  Another had lost her husband years prior when quite young and remarried...so she too "got" it.  While it's good to have friends and family who sympathize...it's a refreshing to the soul to be with those who have "been there" with a spouse.  Not a child, brother, sister, mother or dad or even a best friend (though that often comes closest really)...but a spouse.
       My common denominator has its shadings though.  Seeing young marrieds doesn't feel the same as seeing old-marrieds.  The young ones simply make me want to urge them to not fight or argue without resolving it before sleeping and to always focus on the "why" you love your mate and the "what's" about him make him a "good" man and "good" person and a "lucky for you to marry him-guy".
       Seeing the old-marrieds...that's the killer hard part. Lots of arrows pierce me with them.  Even seeing Mikes folks...happily married for 50+ years...every day (they live next door) also means that I see "what I will miss" every single day.   So it came as no surprise to me that being on a Cruise with our scheduled dinner-dining-table filled with couples Mike and my age,  or ones with maybe 5 - 10 years more years on us (marriage-wise)....carried the usual mixed bag of ouches.  Not as bad as it could've been since the ones married 35+ and especially the 45 - 50+ years... can turn ouches into oozing.

       I did have something that helped me throughout the journey too.  It's helped me throughout the past two years actually.  It's been taking and  leaving a bit of Mike with me wherever I go.
          The girls don't understand that having Mike's ashes and spreading them wherever I travel  brings me a sense of peace.   But for me, I like having a small bit of him with me when traveling to new places that I know he would've gone with me to see.  However it resonates quite differently with the girls.  Even though they heard Mike tell me, when I asked him what he wanted me to do with his ashes, to leave some here, some there...wherever I go.
       Why it doesn't bother me but bothers the girls comes down to several differences. First....it literally feels fine for me to "touch" Mike's ashes.   Maybe because I am a nurse and have dealt physically with death for decades.  Maybe because christian-wise, I know Mikes' spirit is is heaven quite happily watching me....and that this is just "dust". But it is "his" dust and I simply don't have a problem with it. And I don't think I'm weird.  We shared toothbrushes if need be...it's just not a big deal and actually even comforting.
        Secondly, I have a great imagination.  (It's fun to have one like mine!)  When I leave bits of Mike behind, I imagine that day in the future that the Bible talks about!  The day when the Lord brings all of us still living (and dead) to him in "bodily" form and gives us new bodies.  Actually what that looks like ...the "how" of it and and just what he does with all the dust that is/was our old bodies....is not described in the Bible.   But  I imagine God calling out...and suddenly all these small swirls of ashes coming together from all the oceans, seas, and lands where I've left Mike...and they come  together in one beautiful swirl ...and bamm....there will be Mike's old body floating up to heaven like snowflakes and pixie dust gathered from all over the world.  And Mike will be laughingly watching from where he already is in heaven...in spirit form.  So leaving a bit of Mike wherever I travel....gives me a warm feeling inside.
            But it bothers the girls.  Which means I have to be secretive about the actual "whens" and it also bothers them if I get too specific about the actual "where's".  It's sad to me. Because I think it would be nice to share the feeling that it gives me with them.
        I know my Mom enjoyed sharing with her second husband, Wayne, that warmth/joy/sadness blend that came when she spread the  ashes of my Dad in the Pacific Ocean.  But, while I leave a bit of Mike behind me wherever I travel, the girls are adamant they don't want to share in the experience.

        But yay....I'm HOME! .  The Cruise and my Italy/Greece/Etcetera trip was wonderful with great memories made. One of which is just remembering how hard Amie tried to remain "up" and "fun" (for me) in spite of coming down with the flu,  cramping and throwing up in Ephesus (after a bad glass of pomegranate juice), and being bruised and banged up after falling down several marble steps while descending from the Acropolis in Greece.  So while it was a bummer for me at times that she didn't feel up to giving in to my every spontaneous, impulsive whim...it also is a memory that warms my heart when I reflect on how hard it was for her and how she really kept trying to be "fun" and "up" for me even while feeling yuck. (If I'm the one who may stub my toe or bruise my pinkie...I can be all about.."Ow!  I stubbed my toe... or Ow!  my pinkie!).  
         But Amie knew that it was always my "dream" to go to Italy.  The other countries...not so much. I'd actually already been to Istanbul, Ephesis, Athen, and Mykonos.  She knew I was "s'posed" to go to Italy (with Mikey) on our our 25th anniversary.  Which would've been 2 years ago.
        (Sigh and snort at the same time....)  I don't even know if we would've actually done it! Mike promised he'd take me.  But it wasn't ever Mike's  dream.  His was a Harley and a decked out-fishing-Kayak...or something similar.  And financially....who knows if we would've even gone two years ago...had Mike not gotten sick.  I'll never know for sure.  It was May 2013 when he got sick.  Had he not gotten sick, it mean't Mike had till March 2014 to plan our trip...IF he hadn't gotten his cancer diagnosis 10 months beforehand.  Obviously...the next 4 months of his life were not spent figuring out or planning a trip to Italy. So....(blow out air from cheeks and shrug shoulders)... maybe we would've or maybe we wouldn't gone...then.  But we would've done it.  Because Mike was that way.  He knew it was my dream and he would've done it for me and with me.  Maybe 2 years ago or maybe 2 weeks ago.  So I went.  And am glad down to my toes that I did.
         However, having gone.  I am now..... a bit dream-less.  I have some places I still wouldn't mind traveling to see.  But no place that REALLY matters anymore.  But, I promised my sister a trip to Alaska.   So I know I have one more trip in me once I can find time and finances again.  While I don't have a "dream" per se.  I do have a "to do" list ...still.
        ( Sigh.   Stop typing.  Sigh again.  Blow out air from cheeks. )    2 years.
        The date looms over this grey, rainy day.   2 years ago....Mike sat in the recliner next to our bed. Sat at the desk opposite me. Hugged.  Held my hand. Argued with me over not his continuing to work and not quitting when he was so very sick.  Loved me. And then 2 years ago.... tomorrow... lying next to me in this same bedroom,  Michael died.
         Two years ago.  And as he lay 2 feet away from me now... I told him "it was okay".  Such a huge lie.  It was okay for him.  It was not okay for me.  And you only realize just how horribly and totally UN-okay it was...as you go through life without him.
          But...moving forward has happened.  And I am stronger and more whole.  Much more "okay".   But the anniversary of this day is not a good thing.   And some people want to celebrate Mike on this day.  I don't.  I don't want to think much about the events that happened two years ago.  I don't want those memories.  I want them buried...down down down....really far.  Away from me.
           The dates from the 16th to the 25th of September hold horribly painful memories. They overflow and the intensity is enough to still cause me physical pain if I think on them for longer than a few seconds.  Those 7 - 10 days were the most horrible of my entire life.
          Having the rug pulled out from under us...the "months" we still had being turned into "go home to die in days" came literally overnight.  Then there was more blood transfusions, surgical drain insertion, discharge, hospice, moving /packing to get Mike from our home to the Cottage out back (which had twinges of a hotel, not really "home" for the girls and I) and pain control/hospice/incompetence/inexperience/awfulness that leaves me with a blur of painful memories that only haunt me and which were broken only rarely by a few that were "good".  I hate that week with 95% of my soul.  It was torturous. The last day his younger brother stayed behind and I think it left him shell-shocked a bit.  Even the girls missed many of those moments as they "didn't need to see" some of them.  And we had sent Mom and Pop downstairs to be called "when" it "was time".  Only those who have nursed someone dying and painfully, very very very painfully dying....will be able to imagine what the last 24 hours were like.  So no...not a day I wish to remember. I don't circle it on the calendar.  It's the worse of all the "painful-to-remember-days".  Worse than his birthday, our anniversary, or the holidays. I prefer to have them be, for lack of a better word,  submerged.
        I won't work it as an RN either.  First, because all I did was "nurse" Mike and nursing and hospitals only bring painful reminders.  And besides, I know for sure that  I will cry.  Maybe only for a few seconds.  Maybe moments.  Maybe a heart-crushing sob.  Maybe just tears that will quietly flow and drop off my cheek that make no sound.  But I definitely do not want or plan to be nursing anyone at the hospital when those moments come.

            So.... I timed this trip to Italy and the Cruise deliberately.  And it has been a good thing.  It kept my mind busier  and the bottoms of my feet so that I haven't remembered "too often" the week I was in two years ago. The tears and memories came but  they were triggered by the old-marrieds and the reminder of not having Mike.  They weren't reminders of that last week two years ago.  When I cried on this trip, it was over what I lost in that Man....  His goodness.  His incredible heart. (True...he had flaws.  We all do).  But Mike had so MUCH good inside.  I don't even come close to goodness like that which was inside of Michael.  And now it is gone. Whether I deserved a man like that or not....he is gone. And over the years hoped for...that are lost.

       I won't post tomorrow.  I will get through tomorrow.  And will be praying for Katie and Amie as they go through tomorrow.  Because two years ago tomorrow,  at 10:22 pm....  Mike died.  I can reach out and touch where he was at that moment.  And knowing he was right there...where I could throw my arm and hug a pillow that lies a few feet away from me...weird as it may sound... gives me a sense of warmth and love. Amidst the sense of loss.  And again why I'm glad it is grey and rainy outside.
     
        In my imagination, it's as if I have to advance through this valley.  Like a scene from Braveheart or The Patriot.  I imagine coming from the opposite side of the valley where I have to go, hordes of arrows darkening the sky above me and landing all around me as I try to cross through to the safety of the other side.  Most of the time, the arrows miss me entirely and get stuck in the soft dirt and grass around me.  And I can go long distances without being struck by one of the arrows.    But then, there's always some..that pierce me through as I advance. And each time,  I have to pull them out...and I cry. But I get to use a shield ( my daughters, my friends, my family, the girls and especially...the mundane of life that is lying in piles on my desk and in my suitcases as I look about this bedroom).  And I get a sword (that I'm often dropping)  to fend off arrows with too (My Bible, My Lord and God and listening to songs about Him).

         It still actually surprises me...that my hold on that sword remains so slippery!   I recognized yesterday that it is because I'm still not 100% finished with forgiving God or with trusting God that His decision really was best for ME.  I'm sure He felt it was for Mike!  Which only brings in a slew of new hurts and confusion from which I have to sort through and forgive God about. It's that 5 - 10% of me that hasn't really believed that this decision WAS in Mikes AND My and the girls...best interests.   Why?  Why now?  Those questions without answers leave me feeling unloved and betrayed by God. And also quite hurt that God felt  Mike deserved "right now" the new life that is FANTASTIC with Him in heaven.  Which only makes me wonder why He thought the life Mike had with me on earth was so bad.
           Really, God?  Was it really so awful for Mike (from your point of view)  that You didn't feel Mike should live (or endure) life here with me any longer?   Yet I'm still stuck in it.  And I am always quick to assure God that THAT is good.  Not easy. Not always what I even want.  But...I need to be here for the girls.  I know that.  It's "good" that I am still here. But...really?  Mike couldn't stayed ....longer?   Like all these other old-married couples?
           So I continue to go through this mixed bag of bewilderment, hurt and bitterness interspersed sometimes rarely...often times (like on Sundays during worship) with shards of spiritual understanding and peace.
         A bag seemingly filled with a oil and water mix of emotions.   Even if proportions and ratios between the emotions change and even if some rise to the surface more often than others... ALL of the emotions remain in the bag.  I would like the bag to empty out.  Poke a hole in it.  Get rid of all but the shards of peace and understanding.

         I think Satan keeps refilling the bag...or at least rekindling the emotional intensity of the yucky ones.  Like blowing on a spark that is about to go out...Satan and his minions keeps the sparks of emotions flaring...the ones I don't want to keep.  Taunting me at times with the thoughts that life with me must've been pretty awful for Mike to get to go to heaven so darn early....for God to feel so bad for poor Mike that He had to "escape" him from living life with me.

        Poor me.  I sound pretty pathetic I know.  I have to re-read The Screwtape letters" by C.S. Lewis I think.  That may be a good shield to keep more of those taunts from finding fertile ground. Because just telling myself..."don't listen to that, it's from the enemy" helps...but doesn't eliminate the second round of firing off of arrows.  And again....he'll taunt with the thought of how other wonderfully secure in their love of the Lord Christian Women who've experienced loss of a spouse would "never" feel or think the thoughts I just put to paper. "Those women" would be "inspiring" and "towers of strength and inspiration and joy" in their Lord.

(looking out the window at the rain and grey clouds)..... I really need my Lord.  I really need Jesus Christ.  I really need to climb into His lap and just be loved.  And so I will do so and be encouraged by Him and be loved...by Him.  And maybe...later....He'll make me an inspiration.

            So onto submersion.  If I think of Mike, I hope it will be focused on heaven and Mike being there.  Not about the earth and me being down here...without him.  So I will read my bible.  And play my christian songs.  And talk to God.  And talk to Mike.  And get lost in the general busyness of returning to life that has been put "on hold" for the past 2 1/2 weeks which means lots of laundry, lots of bills to pay, mail to go through, unpacking to accomplish etc.

              Well....I guess that is all I have to blog about right now.  I have to get through the next 48 hours....submerging in the mundane of life and walking while avoiding arrows.

             Ciao, Au Revoir,   (I don't remember how they say bye in Greece or Turkey  :)