Day
100
It’s
Friday the 13th – and Day 100 of my widowhood. The number “100” usually implies something
celebratory. I know it’s become
fashionable in some schools to celebrate the 100th day of the school
year in some manner. I think it’s mostly
just an attempt to break up the doldrums of winter since that usually falls in
mid-January! Rarely do people make it to
their 100th birthday without having some sort of celebration
(complete with cake for grandma to gum and the obligatory picture in the paper –
I will write my children out of my will if they publish my picture when I turn
100, by the way!). But this isn’t a
celebration; merely an observance, known only to me. I won’t hit 100 again until May of 2015 when
I hit 100 weeks since Paul’s death. 100
months won’t happen for about 8 years.
And 100 years – well, I won’t need to worry about that one.
I
remember when we hit our first 100 days of marriage. It happened to coincide with Memorial
Day. Paul had the day off but spent some
of it working for somebody on some other project. That afternoon/evening, though, he had the idea
for the two of us to have a picnic. It
was nice – just the two of us, spending some rare time alone together. I remember I wore I striped t-shirt.
But
anyway, I have survived now 100 days without Paul. Will the next 100 be any easier, I wonder?
Yesterday
I got my hair trimmed and brought the girls to Sarah so she could relax their
hair. It’s been 8 months since I had
Lizzie’s done and hair sessions were getting painful again for her, so I
figured it was time to do it. Ellie’s is
getting so long, too, and she’s getting squirmier and squirmier as I have to tug
on her locks more with the length. So
Sarah agreed to do both. I didn’t know
she intended for me to leave the salon, though! I figured I’d be needed to help control
Ellie and maybe to help detangle. But
she shooed me out the door and told me to come back in about 5 hours. Both she and her co-worker suggested strongly
that I go somewhere for lunch and that it couldn’t be “something you eat in the
car!”
So
I went. What a treat! I had a multitude of errands to run that I
just had not had the time to do – boring stuff, like the bank and
Hallmark. I did stop at Menards and got
new shades for the girls’ room and Will’s.
That was moderately enjoyable (not really – maybe slightly more than
groceries, I guess). But then I went
ring shopping. The time is coming –
soon, I think – where I will remove my wedding ring. But I’ve talked before about how I don’t want
a bare hand when that happens. I’ve had
the idea of incorporating Paul’s stone in the with the kids’ birthstones. So I checked out some jewelry stores and
discovered that what I wanted to do was expensive, like upwards and over
a thousand dollars. I just can’t. When I think of all the money I am sinking
into this house right now and all the money I’ve spent this summer on burial
stuff – and all the money I’ll need to spend over the years to live and support
these kids – there’s no way I can justify that kind of expenditure.
But
the good news is that I rethought what I could do and I came up with a
solution that is just a fraction of the cost of what I was being quoted
yesterday. I’m going to go with two
separate rings, but wear them together – a mother’s ring and then a tiny little
one for Paul. Actually, you know what I
did? I prayed about it. I found myself in a dilemma after visiting
these jewelry stores and just asked God for wisdom, explaining to him how
important this was to me, but wanting to be financially wise at the same
time. Just a few hours later I came up
with this idea. I know it’s all kind of
frivolous and shouldn’t be a big concern to me - someday the funeral director will be prying
them off my cold fingers if my kids want them.
But at the same time, it is important to me for right now. Not as important as some stuff, like just how
on earth am I going to raise, support, and educate these kids all by myself,
but important, nonetheless.
And
you know what I did? I actually did eat
by myself. I almost chickened out. I don’t think I have ever eaten alone
at a sit-down restaurant. What I really
wanted to do was zip through a drive-through somewhere. But before I had left, Sarah and her
co-worker had suggested I go to Olive Garden, for some reason. That idea lodged in my brain and as I was
attempting to remind myself of how uncomfortable it would be to sit in a
restaurant alone, I couldn’t muster up any enthusiasm for something I could get
handed to me through a window. So, Olive
Garden it was. The hostess seemed quite
disapproving when I told her, “just one” but I might have imagined that. Of course, she didn’t tuck me into a private
little booth, though. No, it had to be a
table right out in the middle! Thank
goodness for my kindle. I buried my nose
in that the entire time and avoided eye contact with every person in the
place. I just felt awkward and wrong
like it’s not socially correct to sit down and eat if you have no companion,
their presence, of course, proving that
you have a life. But I did enjoy my
chicken parmigiano. And it didn’t keep
coming back up on me like something from Culvers or Burger King would have!
Sarah
ended up getting done sooner than expected so I met her on the by-pass. When I saw Ellie for the first time with her
newly straightened hair, I blurted out, “You brought me a Mexican baby!” I always forget to be politically correct
when surprised…She looked so cute, though!
It won’t last beyond the first hair washing, but it’s fun to enjoy for
right now. And I should have an easier
time with styling for a few months.
Sarah also brought me some stuff to stretch out the times in-between
straightening and some shampoo, conditioner, and shine spray. She is so good to me!
Wednesday
I got a phone call from my attorney offering me three adoption dates. I snatched the first one that he offered
before he could even get the other two out of his mouth! I couldn’t tell anybody the news, though,
until he confirmed it with the judge. I
waited for that phone call all day yesterday.
Finally, the lawyer who has served as the girls’ guardian ad litum since
they entered foster care called me to tell me how delighted he was about the
adoption, confirmed the date, and told me he’d be serving as guardian ad litum
at the hearing, too. So, next Thursday
morning, the girls will be mine, legally – finally.
 |
| Almost Mine! |
Today
my attorney visited with more paperwork for me to sign and then right after he
left the other lawyer, the guardian ad litum, came. He hugged me two or three times and told me
he is not going to charge me a dime for his services next Thursday. That’s wonderful! I’ll have expenses with my attorney, but I
didn’t even know what I would be responsible for with the second. This guy had actually called me four days
after Paul died to offer his condolences and he told me today that after he got
off the phone with me in June he thought to himself, “This one is strong. She’s going to be just fine.” I don’t think I’m all that strong (refer to
my last post and maybe the one before it and oh, most of what I have written
since June 6!) but it was still nice to be complimented like that.
So…memories. Does Paul have them? It’s something I thought of this week. Does Paul remember me? Does he remember anything of his life on
earth? I like to think he does. My widow books assure me that our loved ones
will know us when we enter Heaven.
Hebrews talks about the “cloud of witnesses” that is cheering us on in
our Christian walk which seems to indicate that they are given at least
glimpses of us here on earth. But when I
get to Heaven will Paul’s recognition be that of one lover greeting another or
will it be more along the lines of a dementia patient who knows that he should
know the person that just walked into the room, but doesn’t exactly know why he
should? Again, I’m sure it’s just my
human mind trying to figure out something it’s not supposed to right now.
But
I hope Paul remembers me. I hope he can
remember the good times. I hope he
remembers the love…
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