Day 66

DIARY OF AN UNWILLING WIDOW

August 11, 2013

Day 66

 

So, so sad tonight…I miss him so much.  I wonder if there will ever come a day when the missing isn’t there – just fond remembrance.

I suppose all the work I’ve been doing on the closet is affecting me, although I rather imagine I’d be sad anyway.  I have everything out of there now.   He had three boot boxes of baseball caps.  When we first met and in the early years of our marriage, Paul wore them quite a bit.  But it was pretty rare he’d wear them at all in more recent years.  You’d think it would be the other way around – with the increasing loss of his hair, he might want to wear caps more!  I had the older boys pick out a couple each and saved a couple for Sam when he gets older.  The rest I pitched.  His shoes are going to Goodwill since Will and David already have larger feet than their dad and Ben needs slip-on shoes.  I did give Ben both pairs of his dad’s slippers.

I finished merging our files tonight, which has been an on-going project.  Paul had a number of files in the desk drawers and I had a bunch in a file box – Paul’s had to do with credit cards, utilities, taxes,  and  mortgages; mine were Ben’s stash of paperwork with his special needs, medical statements, and things like that.  We were never very good at mutual organization.  We did fine with our own little systems and life became greatly less complicated when I took over our finances 5 years ago.  But we should have been better with our paperwork.  But it’s finished now.  I have gone through each file and thrown and burned a lot of what he had.  I re-organized everything according to my preferred method.  Now all that remains is to file my tub full of papers that’s been accumulating the last year.

It feels good to be on a better track to organization.  But it feels crummy at the same time.  At least when things were unorganized we were together.

My monitor died very unexpectedly today.  I just replaced the computer in May when it croaked, but the one I bought didn’t come with a new monitor.  I was feeling pretty good about getting a whole new computer for only $300.  A $160 later, I’m a little more realistic about the true cost of a new computer!  Oh, it’s ok.  I ended up buying a 23” monitor, which seems huge, but is helpful with my recent eyesight problems.  So, I had to make an unplanned trip to town to get one and since Will and David were at the State Fair, I had to take the other 4.

On the way home, Lizzie randomly asked, “So, when you get us a new husband, Mom, are you going to have to go back to college to find him?”  I was drinking (water) while driving at that moment and I think I sprayed my entire steering wheel.  I did not see that question coming!  I didn’t even know which direction to go with her question – laugh at the “husband for us” part, be appalled at the idea that she is thinking of the idea of another man in the home, or be amused by the fact she thinks one has to return to the original source to obtain a replacement.  I’m astonished, really, because the subject of remarriage has only been brought up briefly by the older boys.  They all just wanted to make sure I had no plans for remarriage in the near future and I was able to assure them whole-heartedly that was the case.  Will even commented once that “in the eyes of God you’re still married and will always be.”  I pointed out that his theology was a bit twisted, but he assured me it was not and that I should never entertain the possibility of remarriage.  Since it’s not an immediate concern, I let it go.  So, anyway…

Lizzie’s question led to a conversation I didn’t want to have on all the different places one might meet a man.  She concluded with, “Well, when you get married and you’re supposed to kiss, I’m going to close my eyes, because kissing is gross!” 

I laugh at the places my preschoolers’ minds take them, but there is a part of me that shudders, too.  It’s nothing that I need to worry about now, though.  My widow books tell me that only about 50% of the widowed remarry – men generally within 3 years and women within 5.  But I’m guessing for the widowed with many children, including one who will be a lifetime companion, the odds are much lower.  Ah, well – it’s in God’s hands, anyway.  Right now, the only person I want to be married to is dead.

Oh, that reminds me of the other thing Lizzie said today.  She asked if I thought Dad would be going to church this morning.  I was in a hurry, getting all of us ready to go, and I shortly replied, “No – he’s dead!” and left the room.  What a silly question.  She’s known for asking non-sensical, foolish things at times.  But Lizzie followed me into the bathroom, protesting, “Mom!  Dad’s not dead!  He alive in our hearts and he’s alive up in Heaven!”  Just when I think she’s nothing but a silly, prattling, preschooler, she pulls out something like that…

Yesterday, our mayor was over for a few moments.  Every October, for the past few years, he’s put together an amazing haunted house for Halloween.  He’s always enlisted Will’s help and it’s been a lot of fun.  So, he brought that up to Will yesterday and they batted around a few ideas.  This year, though, I find myself cringing at the thought of the party.  I’ve always loved Halloween – dressing my kids in cute costumes, handing out candy, enjoying the crispness of the fall air before winter settles in.  But this year?  Where’s the fun in death now?  Part of our annual town party always involves a hayrack ride (that Paul usually pulled with his truck) through the cemetery.  Several townspeople would be hidden behind tombstones and they’d jump out as the hayride came through, Freddy Krueger-style, with chainsaws and masks.  We always knew they were there, but it made everyone shriek just the same.  I cannot do that this year.  I don’t even want that hayrack going through the cemetery at all.  I can’t prevent that, but I don’t have to be on it.  I feel a bit proprietal now about that place.  Paul’s body is there.  I’ve spent hours up there, talking to him, crying, fussing over his gravesite.  Even though I know where Paul really is, the cemetery has now taken on a bit of a sacred air.  It’s my quiet place where I can feel connected to him still.  I don’t want it invaded by Halloween revelers. 

There’s a storm rolling in tonight.  I loved late-night summer thunderstorms with Paul.  They were so cozy.  We’d cuddle in bed, listening to the thunder.  I’d jump with some of the cracks, and he’d chuckle and hold me tighter.

My heart hurts. My whole body hurts.  I can feel the building  pressure of unshed tears.   I know it’s necessary to go through this time of grief and I know this is the right way to do it, but that knowledge doesn’t make this any easier.  I still find myself daydreaming about dying myself so that we could be reunited.  I just want to enter Heaven, greet God, and then turn the corner to find Paul learning against a light post.  He’ll probably have a blade of grass in his mouth and he’ll grin at me and ask,

“What took you so long?”