|Father's Day 2012 - and what a crazy one it was! Now, the memories of the insanity of that day makes me smile because it ended up being the last Father's Day.|
Monday, May 5, 2014
DIARY OF AN UNWILLING WIDOW
May 5, 2014
Tired today…soul-weary, too. I’m missing Paul so much, more than other days. Tomorrow will be the 11 month mark. Over the weekend I had to deal with some (more) pretty vicious attacks by a member of Paul’s family. Grief is hard enough without having to deal with this level of cruelty. But, as an older friend reminded me on Saturday, “You need this!” I looked at her in disbelief and she was quick to assure me that all this is definitely wrong, but God would not allow it in my life unless it was something I needed to experience. It’s a different way of looking at things, but I can’t argue with it, even though I would really like to!
The other night, as he crawled into bed, Sam asked me, “Did Dad only ever sleep in his underwear?” Not sure where he was going with this, I replied, “Ye-e-s-s-s…” Immediately, Sam began removing his pj’s, stripping down to his underwear! Of all the ways I thought he might like to remember and emulate his dad, this was never one of them!
Ugh, actually. The night Paul died, I was so inwardly frantic that I didn’t give his lack of clothing a second thought. But later, I felt kind of embarrassed that he died in his underwear, of all things. I suppose it’s better than dying naked and I’m sure rescue personnel and medical examiners see everything in their line of work. I never minded the fact, ever, the Paul was not a pajama person, But after he died, I kind of wished he had been! When I die, I hope I’m fully clothed – and coordinated.
I had two odd, back-to-back dreams, one night after the other last week. They both dealt with gaining more children. In the first dream I was given two new children to adopt, a little black boy and girl. I was completely overwhelmed. I was still widowed in this dream and I was nearly despairing as to how I would function with more children. But, yet, I still wanted them and I spent the rest of the dream trying to figure out new names for the children. Odd.
The next night I dreamed that I was also still widowed, but delivering a baby that had been conceived before Paul’s death. I had told no one that I was pregnant because the doctors told me something was seriously wrong with the baby and that if it survived the birth, it would not live long afterwards. Only my mom was there. I had the baby and then the delivery room was so crowded and noisy that I asked for a private room so I could rock my newborn daughter until she died. I did that, but she didn’t die. Instead, I could see her pinking up and then I realized she already had teeth and she began talking to me. I brought her to my mom and told her what was happening and she suggested I name the baby, “Rose” and then I added “Patricia” for a middle name, which is my mom’s name.
These dreams really stayed with me. I know whenever I’d share my weird dreams with Paul, he’d usually ask me what I had eaten before I went to bed the night before! But I think these particular dreams are open for interpretation. I suspect the first one has to do with my current situation in life. I’m overwhelmed, overworked, and not quite sure how I’m going to do everything that needs to be done. But yet, I don’t want to give up anything I’ve been given. I still want to figure out how to do it all, keeping what I have. I wonder if the second one has more to do with Paul’s death. Losing him was a certain, terrible thing, like giving birth to this baby who wasn’t supposed to live. But maybe this dream was telling me that surprises await and that things may not always be as awful as I would expect.
Or maybe it was just the tacos I had for supper!
Will and I went to a wedding shower Saturday. Because it was for Nathanael and his fiancee, I really didn’t think twice about it. In fact, I even brought food for the shower to help out. If it had been for anyone else, I probably would have had to think a little bit more before attending. My friend, Vivian, explained it to me a few weeks ago this way: now that I am widowed, there will be emotional “price tags” attached to a number of activities. I will have to decide if the price is worth what I’m willing to pay, emotion-wise. For example, I don’t think I could ever visit Paul’s parent’s house because of how difficult it would be for me to be there without him. Right now, that price is too high to pay.
I discovered that this wedding shower exacted a price out of me, too. It hurt to be there. It hurt to hear talk of weddings and to play games about love and marriage. I was surprised by that. But it was still worth it to me so that I could be there for Nathanael. I could pay that price. But I was relieved to leave. I suppose the wedding will do the same thing to me next month.
Ellie is still getting around pretty well. She’s become very adept at pulling herself up to furniture and standing on her cast. I’m guessing the orthopedist might frown at that. The other day I was shocked when she managed to climb the 2X4 ladder Paul built onto the swing set that leads up to a platform where the kids can play or go down the slide. That thing has to be about 6’ off the ground and it’s not an easy climb, even without a cast!
Today, Ellie told me she wanted something that was on a chair across the room. Without thinking, I asked, “Are you legs broken?” Oh yeah…
Well, this blessed mama is even more tired than what I was when I started writing. Time to wrap it up and try to wind down the day. Plus, Ellie has been informing me for some time that, “I yukky!” and she is. She’s smelling up the house. I had better go rescue everyone from that.
And so, another day draws to a close. Another day without Paul and another day closer to seeing him again. Nighttime is a good thing.