Day 123

DIARY OF AN UNWILLING WIDOW

October 6, 2013

Day 123

October 6^th…four months ago today.  One third of a year – which is a lot.  Eating one third of a pie might give you a stomach ache.  Giving away one third of your income might make you poor.  Losing one third of your teeth would make it hard to eat.  And being widowed for one third of a year makes you so, so sad…

It has been harder the past few days – week or so, I guess.  Lots of tears…I am reading one of my free kindle books called, “When God Breaks Your Heart.”  I’m not sure who the author is – nobody I’ve ever heard of.  It’s an in-depth study of the story of Lazarus’ death and resurrection.  I am really appreciating it right now.  So far, nothing is setting off alarm bells in my mind.  You have to be careful when reading books about the Bible when you don’t know the author or what kind of church background they have.  But so far, everything seems to ring with some authenticity and I’m appreciating his thoughts on suffering.

I drove out to Council Bluffs yesterday – first time since Paul’s death.  I met up with Kathy and we went to a craft fair.  We’ve done this hundreds of times in the years since we were both married.  She lives on that side of the state and it’s always been important to us to carve out time for our friendship.  She came out here in August, but we both wanted to attend the craft fair and I wanted to re-establish normalcy.  It was a wonderful day, even though I cried for half the trip out there.  I wanted things to be normal, but, of course, they’re not.  As we were saying good-bye, Kathy was fighting tears – for my sake.  Driving home I was reminded of all my other trips like this and how Paul and the kids would be waiting for me at home, happy to see me after my day “off.”  But this time and for every other time for the rest of my life, he wouldn’t be there.  I’m still glad I went, but it’s just one more thing that has changed.

I wonder if Paul is decomposing yet?  That’s a thought that went through my mind recently.  It’s a morbid and ghoulish thought, I know, but that’s the way my mind works.  I’m curious.  I don’t know anything about the embalming process, to know how long it takes for the chemicals to break down.  I wonder how air-tight those coffins and vaults really are.  Sooner or later, all the inhabitants have to end up as skeletons, I would think.  But I don’t know how long.  There are times when I visit Paul’s grave still, that I am seized with the intense desire to dig through the dirt down to him, just to see him once more.  Last night as I drove home and passed the cemetery I thought to myself, “Oh, it’s getting so cold – I hope he’s ok!”  I know he’s perfectly fine in a Heaven that is always temperature controlled.  But I spent all our married life making sure he was covered up enough and old habits are hard to overcome, I guess (I was going to say “die hard” but that didn’t seem quite right!).

Well, I am debt-free now, something Paul and I never managed to achieve in our marriage.  We were getting closer, though.  We had a Dave Ramsey debt snowball going but it was going slow.  And now – I owe nobody anything.  I overnighted a final check to the mortgage company a week and a half ago.  I still haven’t heard confirmation from them that they received it, but I assume all is well.  There’s no feeling of celebration in my heart, though.  Paul and I had talked about how someday when we did achieve debt-free status, we’d drive to Tennessee and do the “debt-free scream” in the lobby of the Financial Peace Headquarters.  Well, mine would have probably been more a debt-free “yay” because I’m not a screamer.  But it would have been an accomplishment.  This is not an accomplishment, although it is a relief.

Tomorrow I am taking Ben and David to Jefferson to visit with the chiropractor out there who has done so much for all our allergies.  Will will have the Littles.  I sure hope they are ok when I get home.  I am getting ready to have Lizzie’s birthday picture done soon.  Yesterday I found the most adorable hand-sewn outfit for her at the craft fair.  I bought her matching hair bows and found some brown loafers to go with it.  All I needed was to find a clear spot on my calendar to take her in.  And then tonight she and Sam got into it and Sam scratched her face and drew blood.  I could have throttled him – not so much for injuring his sister, but because now I have to wait for her face to heal to take her in for pictures!

I suppose I should be mad at Sam for attacking his sister, too.  He’s been doing that quite a bit lately.  A friend of mine who has 6 girls told me that that kind of attack is generally reserved for those of the female persuasion.  But he and Lizzie seem to get quite physical with each other, quite often.  She punches and he scratches.  I’ve talked to him about how it’s the male’s job to protect females and he seems to understand that, but it isn’t stopping him from clawing up his sister when provoked, either.  Sigh…I did catch him washing the girls’ My Little Ponies in the bathroom sink the other day and combing their manes,too.  Maybe he needs to spend more time with his brothers…learn to shoot or go to a monster truck jam or something…

This is a huge area of inadequacy for me.  I just feel so ill-equipped to raise these little ones.  I had Paul when the other boys were small.  That wasn’t always easy, either, but Will was always compliant and helpful.  Ben was a handful, always intent on harming himself, but Paul did a pretty good job of remaining one step ahead of him.  And David was never any trouble – he just whined a lot.  But these three – I suspect that they would all fall somewhere into the “strong-willed child” category!

Well, time to end my day, I think.  I need to get Sam to bed, clean up the house, and get ready to leave in the morning.

Missing Paul tonight…miss him every night, but especially tonight…