I hurt.
Tonight my soul feels so incredibly raw.
I miss him.
Just a few days ago I wrote about how I was
actually feeling happy. And now, “happy”
is the last emotion I’d use to describe myself.
Today it’s been 9 months. But I honestly did not even realize that
until mid-way through today, so I can’t say it was anticipation of the date
that has caused this downward pull on my heart.
I think it just goes to show that grief is such a yo-yo mixture of
emotions.
Nine months – babies that were being conceived at
the time of Paul’s death are now being born – life being breathed in as his was
snuffed out…three-fourths of an entire year.
I breathe in, I breathe out, but all I really want
to do is to stop breathing altogether so I can be with him.
 |
| Playing with 3 yr old David - Paul played a lot with his boys |
But then I am reminded of something I was told
three nights ago. It was our last night
at the Amanda the Panda sessions. An
older volunteer has been sitting in on our sessions, offering comments here and
there as needed. Monday night she told
us that this very day marked the 18th anniversary of her husband’s
death. 18 years! 18 years ago I was a young wife of only 3
years, with a toddler, and soon to discover that another baby was on its
surprise way…all the while, across the state, this woman had just begun to walk
through the same fire I would someday.
She went on to tell us that when she looks back on
herself 18 yrs ago, she does not recognize that woman anymore. She said that she learned to do things and
grew in ways she would have never imagined could happen. And, she softly added,
she even learned that she could open her heart to love again (she has since
re-married). Her words made me want to weep.
I so appreciated the encouragement from someone who has been there.
********************************
The very first night of our Amanda meetings we were
asked to fill in a pie chart of our emotions and hand them in. I was very honest. I remember closing my eyes so I could really
assess what was going on in my head and heart.
Then I began coloring. We turned
those charts in. Monday night, we were
given new charts and asked to do the same thing. And then our previous charts were given back
to us. I was so surprised to see how, in
only 8 weeks, my heart has changed.
Sadness still dominated my second chart, like it did my first. But my feelings of anxiety and being
overwhelmed had diminished. And this
time, I had added a generous slice of hope to my pie chart. That emotion didn’t make it onto my first
chart. I am healing – even when I have nights like tonight.
Will and David are very relieved to be done with
the grief counseling. Their main beef
with the whole program was the lack of spiritual centeredness. I can understand their feeling on that. I understand, though, that’s not what the program was
designed for. But when you know where
your ultimate healing and comfort will come from, it can make it harder to
listen to the world’s babble on what they think will heal. It was different for me because in our adult
sessions, it was primarily all of us just sharing. I’m thankful the boys went. I remember one night in my group, one of the
widows commenting that she didn’t know how long she could stay. Her teenage daughter had hurled profanities
at her all the way to the session and refused to come in once they
arrived. I think the fact that it was
below zero that night eventually coaxed her inside, though! I have good kids, I really do.
*******************************************************
I have a bedroom now! Tonight will be my third night sleeping in
there. It’s slowly shaping up. Tonight Will hung my bookshelves and put
together my new desk. He got my ceiling
fan up earlier, although he commented that it is only hanging onto the ceiling
by two screws and he hopes it doesn’t come down at some point. I do, too, since it would be coming down on
top of me! That would be one rough
awakening! Bit by bit, I’m getting stuff
moved out of the kitchen and dining room and back into the bedroom. It’s exciting and heartbreaking at the same
time.
One of the women in my group the other night made
the comment that since her husband’s death she had been doing some remodeling
and had re-painted nearly every room in her house. It’s not like I could relate to that or
anything! She went on to say that as she
is doing this she feels like she is slowly excising her husband from the
house.
I get that…so, terribly, terribly well, do I get
that. The basement and main floor of the
house have undergone tremendous change in the last 7 months. There’s not a whole lot left that was the
same when Paul was alive. We’re doing
all he had planned, but it has changed, just the same…just like our lives.
And now there is our bedroom. All those years we were cramped in that tiny
little bedroom, we would talk about the day that we would build a new room just
for us. It would be our retreat, our “alone”
place…our loving place. Even when Paul
was building temporary rooms back there, he was thinking of our room, running
electrical wires that he capped off for the meantime, knowing we’d need them
later. He designed the ceiling to give
us more of a “cozy” feel back there.
And he never got to see it. I’m enjoying the fruits of his thoughts and
plans and Will’s labor. It truly is a
special place. But I am so alone back
there.
 |
| Will was 8 here - hard to believe this little boy is the one single-handedly finishing my house right now |
I thought the first night I slept in there I would
sleep like a baby after all those weeks on David’s hard mattress. To my surprise, I could not fall asleep, as
tired as I was! Apparently, my body had
managed to adjust itself somewhat to that other mattress and it took some time
to re-adjust to my softer one. And then,
I didn’t realize just how insulated David’s room is down in that southwest
corner of the house. You don’t see or
hear anything down there! But up in my
new room I heard every creak and groan of this old house. I laid there quite awhile, convinced someone
was breaking into the house, before I managed to fall asleep! I’ll get used to it.
*********************************************************
I had to buy a new water heater Sunday – NOT part
of the plan. That morning I had a hard
time getting a hot-enough shower. And then
when I went downstairs I could smell something burning. So I woke Will (boy, am I going to miss him) and
he soon discovered that the bottom of the water heater had rusted out. Ugh. He
stayed home from church to work on the matter.
As I drove to church I found myself really kind of
irritated with Paul. Why didn’t he just
buy new water heaters? It seemed like we were always replacing them
every few years and maybe if he wouldn’t have been so cheap, we wouldn’t have
had to do that. I’ve never priced water
heaters in my life but I assumed something like that would run in the $3-400
range. Will called me from Menards
before I got home and said, “Uh, Mom? I
just had to spend $950 for the water heater.”
Perhaps that might be why Paul only put in used ones?! I quickly took back all the uncharitable
thoughts I’d been having against his memory earlier!
A friend from church came over and helped Will
install it and it ran great until this morning when I had no hot water for my
shower because Ellie had chosen to flip the switch to “off.” Evil, evil, little human…
I was somewhat mollified this afternoon,
though. A guy we know came over to look
at our woodburner. I thought that issue
was dead, but he found out about the situation and wanted to see if there was
anything he could do. He was admiring
our water heater and said he had installed one identical to it awhile
back. He told me, though, that it is
such a high efficiency unit that it cut his propane bill in half.
I guess we’ll see! If that
happens, then I might not be quite so sore at what I paid for it.
This guy asked me how I was doing. I told him I don’t know how to answer
that. He was widowed young, too,
although he remarried pretty quickly, a year ago. I looked at him and told him it just plain hurts.
He nodded and told me that even though he has remarried he still has
days like that. I read an article not
too long ago that asserted the same thing.
Remarriage is not a cure for grief.
While it will lessen in time and the heart may be able to expand enough
to love again, the widowed spouse will always
hurt over the loss of that former love.
***************************************************************
I met my new financial guy this week. He doesn’t know yet he’s my new financial
guy, but I like him, so I think I’ll hire him.
I took my pastor and wife and Will with me to the appointment. I’m female and clueless about investing, so I
figured there might be safety in numbers.
I would be pretty easy pickings for the unscrupulous. But I came away impressed. More importantly, my pastor and Will were
also really impressed with this guy. I
found him through the Dave Ramsey website.
This guy is a Christian and really
into Dave’s teachings. He also explained
the process that it took to win the spot of becoming an ELP for the
ministry. It sounds kind of
grueling. To date, there are only 2
financial ELPs in all of Des Moines
***********************************************************************
The Littles had a dental appointment this
morning. It went well. Unfortunately, Ellie has several
cavities. Because she is so little I now
have to take her to a specialist. I don’t
know how this happened. I don’t even
have her taking a sippy cup to bed anymore and haven’t for several weeks. She did really great today even though her
little body looked so tiny in that
adult-sized chair! So maybe – hopefully –
she’ll do well at the specialist’s.
**************************************************************
**************************************************************
I did get that adoption article written I had mentioned in my last post. I didn't know what to write, honestly. There are a hundred different directions I could go when it comes to this subject. So I finally just prayed that God would direct my thoughts and that whatever He wanted me to write would get written. You can read it here
***********************************************
The other night I could not find my slippers. I was looking all over for them, growing
increasingly frustrated. Then I looked
down at my feet…yep. Paul would have
enjoyed that moment!
***********************************************************
A week or so ago the Littles brought home little
flower pots they had painted in Children’s Church and filled with dirt and
seeds. I had to laugh when I saw the
accompanying note. The teacher had
written care instructions for the flowers and explained that they were “asylums.” Admittedly, I’m not exactly a horticulturist,
but I’m pretty certain she meant to write “alyssum”! But I was glad she made that mistake because
it made me laugh!
More and more, the laughter does creep into our
house and lives. It’s a good thing. I was doing David’s Learning RX with him the
other night and he had to do an activity where he had to set the metronome to
120 beats a minute and then do something on every third beat. I counted out loud to help him catch the
beat. It only took me a minute to realize
this was waltz time. So I grabbed Ben,
standing nearby, and cried, “Dance with me, Ben!” Ever-amiable, he was happy to oblige. Hand to hand, and hand to waist, we waltzed
around the kitchen. All the while, I called out to David, “One, two, three –
waltz, one two, three – waltz!” David
covered his eyes with his hand and muttered something about counting down the
days until he can leave. But I had
fun. And judging by Ben’s laughter, I
think he did, too.
I know I will never forget this kind of pain and
hurt, even after it has faded. Times
like this are burned into the soul. But
I hope I never forget the laughter, either, even when its source is just two clumsy
people dancing together in the kitchen…
 |
| 2003 - with my brother and future sister-in-law - this was the first time we ever met Kirsti |
Great effort on meeting with the financial guy. Necessary to make that first step. Nice photo!
ReplyDelete