Day 530

DIARY OF AN UNWILLING WIDOW

Nov. 15, 2014

Day 530

Snow today!  There's enough that it's accumulating and it's cold enough that it will stick around for awhile.  Boy, is it cold.  It's been this way all week long.  I don't remember it getting this cold this early in past years.  Of course, everyone is saying, "Oh, this means we're going to have a terrible winter!"  I hope not.  I had to drive in the snow today and it was slick and made for  slow-going.  I don't relish the thought of six months of that.

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It's Saturday night and the week is drawing to a close.  I still have a lot to do, though, before I can call it a night.  I'm not even sure where the week went. 

I did get a phone call in the first part of the week from an older couple at church who wanted to give us a fourth of a steer again this year.  What a blessing!  I was able to call the meat locker this week and order that how I liked.  I picked up my Zaycon order yesterday and that was 80 pounds of chicken breasts.  I got them all cut and bagged today.  What a job!  Now, I really need to get my freezers cleaned out.  But that's not going to happen tonight.

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Ellie is still being...Ellie.  This week she bit several people.  Fortunately, they were her siblings so I didn't have any fast explaining to do to irate mothers.  She took apart an ink pen, smeared the ink all over her dresser and then mixed it with water.  She found some sharp object and did the equivalent of "keying" to her sister's dresser.  Today, a friend of mine gave me a china doll for the girls.  I suggested to Lizzie it might be a good idea to hide the doll for awhile lest it meet an untimely demise at the hands of her sister.

She makes my weeks long.

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My face has been breaking out lately.  I've done enough reading to know this is not uncommon as a woman ages, but I wonder what it signifies?  Encroaching menopause?  I hope not.  The last thing I need right now is to go through the change of life!

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Lizzie said to me one day, "If you were to bake Sam and me in the oven  you would only want to eat Sam because he's vanilla and I'm chocolate."  What, huh?  I didn't even know how to begin responding to that one.  It's just wrong on so many levels!

Jenn and I went out Thursday night.  Lizzie was a little put out when she discovered just which friend it was I had supper with.  She thought she should have been invited.  As always, it was a refreshing time.  Jenn has a real gift of encouragement.  This time we talked a lot about the circumstances that brought our children to us through adoption.  It's a really neat thing to look back on the experience and to just know beyond a shadow of a doubt that we were created to be these childrens' mothers.  They were born, of course, to another woman and entered into a life full of sin and chaos.  But yet, God was able to redeem that situation, pluck those children out of the home, safeguard them, and ultimately nestled them into our hearts.

Today is National Adoption Day.  A friend of mine whose been a long-time foster/adoptive parent and now works for DHS in some capacity, I believe, was at the Polk County Courthouse where a number of adoptions were taking place and where they were celebrating Adoption Day.  She took pictures and put them on Facebook.  Right in front of the courthouse a pick-up was parked with a professional sign protesting adoption.  Apparently this person or persons was actually confronting and harassing families as they walked into the courthouse, too.  It just makes me mad.  Her sign declared that DHS "steals children for money."  Seriously?  I am not saying that DHS gets it right every single time.  Any government agency run by fallible humans is bound to make a mistake here and there.  But to accuse them of child theft for profit?  That's low. 

And stupid.

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Oh, speaking of adoption...Monday night was my Word Weavers group.  For the first time, we had a guest speaker, a woman who has runs her own publishing company in Kansas.  Since we're a small group still we all met at Village Inn for supper before the meeting.  It turned out that in this group of 8, 4 of us were adoptive parents - including our guest speaker!  It was really kind of neat to compare notes.

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Lizzie asked Will this week, "When are you going to get rid of that apple in your neck?"  She was talking about his Adam's apple.

Today, David informed her that she could help him and Sam clean out the van.  He commented, "Many hands make light work!"  Lizzie looked down at her own and protested, "But I don't have many hands - I only have two!"

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Here's yesterday's Facebook post: I knew he could do it.

ew he could do it. never come easy for him and as a result, his confidence levels tend to be on the low side. I've watched him study the driver's manual for several months now and have been impressed with his diligence, although dubious, still, of how that would translate to actual test taking. I finally took him in this morning for the test. I assured him that many young people, his mother included, need multiple testing opportunities and that's ok and to be expected and so forth - trying to cushion the blow of his first failure. The Littles and I then sat out in the courthouse hallway and actually held hands and prayed for David whose self-worth was about to decimated. A few minutes later my son poked his head out the DMV doorway and announced, "Hey, Mom - I passed!"

There are few parental satisfactions greater than observing your child accomplish something previously thought impossible. Awhile ago, David expressed an interest in learning how to drive and I encouraged that because right now I am the sole proprietor of Mom's Taxi Service which is tiring and makes for a lot of time on the road.  At the same time, though, I was doubtful of David's ability to pass the written test required for his permit.  Learning and retaining information has never come easy for him and as a result, his confidence levels tend to be on the low side.  I've watched him study for several months and have been impressed with his diligence, although dubious, still, of how that would translate to actual test taking.  I finally took him in this morning for the test.  I assured him that many young people, his mother included, need multiple testing opportunities and that's ok and to be expected and so forth - trying to cushion the blow of his first failure.  The Littles and I then sat out in the courthouse hallway and actually held hands and prayed for David whose self-worth was about to decimated.  A few minutes later my son poked his head out the DMV doorway and announced, "Hey,  Mom - I passed!" 

 

I knew he could do it.

 

What a morning!  I am so proud of that boy.  He was so stunned and excited about passing that when he signed his name for his license he mispelled it!  When we got home, he excitedly posted a picture of his temporary permit and Will, of course, was the first to point this out to him!

 

Now I just have to find someone willing to teach David how to drive.  I really don't want to be that person.

 

Normally, I have gone up to the DOT in Ankeny for all our licensing needs.  I don't know why.  It's never been an enjoyable experience - so crowded with impatient, impersonal employees.  For some reason it just occurred to me this fall that maybe I didn't have to go up there.  I made some phone calls and found out I could just go to the courthouse in Knoxville.  The DMV there shares a room with the property tax people.  It was great.  There wasn't even enough room for all 5 of us to fit in there, so the kids and I stayed out in the hallway while David tested.  The Littles were all over the place when we were in the room, though.  Lizzie saw a posted sign picturing a cell phone with an X through it.  The sign was asking people to refrain from talking on their phone in the room.  Lizzie, who cannot read,  saw the sign, gasped, and exclaimed, "Mom!  You have a cell phone in your purse - you have to get rid of it!"  The DMV lady humored all the Littles by letting them check their vision in the machine multiple times.  They all had many, many questions, and each one had to pose themself against the blue background used for taking license pictures.  It was like trying to herd cats.  At one point, the lady looked at me and said, "You must be so tired!"

 

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I've been having an on-going conversation with my pastor's wife for the past week about the idea of redeeming Paul's death.  I don't mean in the sense of becoming an activist for some cause.  That's probably the most common direction people take when confronted with loss.  There's nothing wrong with that and it's good to bring attention to different disorders and situations.  But, I have no desire to slap a purple ribbon on my coat for epilepsy awareness, either.  I'm wanting something deeper than that.

 

I want to do something with eternal value.  For awhile I was questioning if death can even serve a redemptive purpose since death was never part of God's original plan for mankind.  But I've pretty much worked that out in my  mind and determined that yes, it can. 

 

Yesterday, Marcia sat on my loveseat and looked at the pictures of the kids lined up on the wall.  She pointed them out to me and said that perhaps my greatest act of redeeming Paul's death is to continue parenting the kids in the way Paul desired while alive.  That gives me something to chew on because I had not thought of this in that sense before.

 

I'm sure my thoughts on this will continue to eke out in future blog posts.

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We actually had snow flurries one day earlier this week.  They were the first we'd had this season.  We needed to get going to Learning RX and I was trying, almost frantically, to get everyone out and loaded into the van so we could get on the road.  I got them all done up their coats, with the needed hats and mittens and instructed everyone to get in the van while I grabbed the stuff I needed and locked up the house.  I got outside and not one child was in the van.  Frustration mounted.  But then I saw them.  These three small children of mine stood with arms outstretched, faces to the sky, and little pink tongues extended, catching snowflakes.  The wonder of the moment was not lost on me and I immediately forgot the scolding words I was about to utter.  In another decade, these little ones won't be nearly so excited by the first snow of the season. 

 

Let them be children.  They're only little for a little while.

I knew he could do it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Day 524

DIARY OF AN UNWILLING WIDOW

Nov. 9, 2014

Day 524

We might get some snow this week the weathermen are saying.  Even if we don't get snow, it's going to be cold enough for it.  Paul always got so excited about the first snow of the season, right up until his last winter, which was years since he'd plowed snow.  I can see being happy if there's a potential to make money off it, but he just loved snow and cold (yes, he loved the cold, too - whenever anyone would complain about it, he'd say, "What are you going to do when it gets cold out?" meaning that it wasn't really cold right now.  Whatever.  I'd roll my eyes and grab another blanket, trying to keep from biting my tongue from shivering so hard).

I don't like it a whole lot. 

Now.

I don't remember being overly bothered by winter when Paul was alive, but I find myself just dreading the cold and grayness now.  I wonder if it's because I'm immediately transported to last winter, which was the most miserable winter of my life, following the most miserable summer and fall, of course.  Maybe I'm projecting emotional distress onto the season.  Hopefully, that will change with time.

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Ben had to go to Iowa City Wed.  This time, when we checked in at the main desk, the receptionist handed me a laminated sheet of paper that asked if I had visited Africa lately and did I happen to know if I had ebola?  Um, no.  She seemed embarrassed that she had to ask me.  And then the receptionist upstairs in the dentistry dept had to do the same thing.  What's to keep me from lying about being in Africa?  How is asking me this going to ensure the health of all the staff and other patients?  Lucky for them, I'm honest.  And I'm pretty sure I don't have ebola.

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Lizzie has taken to calling a neighboring street in our town, "Popcorn Street."  It's Hawthorne Street and I have pointed that out to her several  times.  But she still asks, "Mom, can I ride my bike to the end of Popcorn Street?"  It's cute.  It can be "Popcorn Street" from now as far as I'm concerned.  Then yesterday I was driving up in Clive and Ellie was in the backseat and asked what street we were turning on.  I told her it was "Hickman Road" and she echoed, "Picnic Road?" 

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I took Ben to get his pictures done yesterday for  his upcoming birthday.  I was glad to get out of there.  Flashing lights have bothered me for several years now and almost always give me an instant migraine.  It never used to be that way.  I figured it was just age, but then in my FB stroke group someone asked just recently if anyone else had a problem with flashing lights since their stroke.  And a lot of people replied that they did.  The timing is about right, so I bet that's when I started having problems with it.  Huh...

I was glad to leave, but it felt kind of bittersweet, too.  After doing this for 18 Novembers in a row, I'll never take Ben in for birthday pictures again.  He'll get his senior pictures done next summer sometime, but we're done with studio shots.

It went by so fast.  Ok, ok...I know I said the same thing a few years ago when it was Will.  And I'm going to whine about it for the next 4 kids to follow Ben.  But it's true.   It's heart-rendering.  And it makes me sad.  I'm thrilled that I managed to keep humans alive relatively unscathed until adulthood.  That is no small feat, especially with the children I have.  I'm grateful for the opportunity I've had to watch them grow.  It's kind of cool to see them tip-toeing into adulthood.  But it's sad because you invest nearly everything you have into these little people and then - poof - it's over.

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And then there are some periods where you'd give just about anything to have it over NOW.

Ellie is still on her little "You're not the boss and I'm going to do whatever I like" streak.  One night this week she jumped on the toilet lid repeatedly until a sibling tattled.  She couldn't do that anymore, so she decided it was a great time to hang on the towel rod instead!

Just now - I mean, literally, just now, as I was typing, I had to go take care of a situation where she scratched Lizzie's eye in anger (I am seriously hoping she did not get her cornea because I'll have to take her in - those are incredibly painful, from what I remember when both David and Paul had them) and spit at Sam.  What am I doing wrong that I am raising such a horrible child?

And nobody believes me!  Everyone tells me how cute and adorable Ellie is and when I try to correct their assumptions they say things like, "Oh, no - that's not Ellie!"  Um, yes it is.  And you haven't even heard all of it.

However, I did have an encouraging thought earlier this week.  I had the parent-teacher conference Tues. night where I heard all kinds of delightful things about Ben.  And I was remembering Ben's early years which were difficult, to say the least.  He was very naughty, stubborn, and seemed to delight in figuring out ways to injure himself.  I still remember the old cattle fencing we had around our first house.  Both Paul and I wanted that stuff down but we decided to wait until the boys were a little older since we lived right off a highway.  We ended up moving before we ever took it down, anyway.

It's a good thing we didn't because when Ben was around 4 or 5 he figured out how to open the gate.  So Paul rigged up a complicated locking system.  I'll never forget the day I looked out the door just in time to see Ben almost to the top of the fence.  If he couldn't unlock the gate, then he was just going to go over it!

I sent him to preschool a few mornings a week that last year before kindergarten started.  I'll never forget the day his driver drove into my driveway, and ashen-faced, told me that Ben had unbuckled his car seat and attempted to unlock the van door as the van hurtled down the highway.

That was just the early years.  And then we went through puberty with him which was so awful that we were beginning to think Ben was going to end up in residential care at some point.

But look at him now!  And just like Ben's future wasn't solidified at the time he was climbing fences or violently arguing with me as a young teenager, Ellie's story isn't written all the way yet either.  If we both survive this time (a fact that is in question at the moment) I may very well be singing a different tune when she is Ben's age.  That thought cheers me.

But right now...I'm frustrated and weary.  In fact, as I was typing the above paragraphs, a horrified Lizzie came to me holding a tin of cookies and sharp pair of scissors she found hidden in her bed.  Ellie had obviously stashed them there.  I am not going to survive this child.  I really am not.

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Will's been deer hunting the last couple of days and will be out again this week.  Paul would be so tickled to know this.  Will is bow hunting which is a first for him.  Paul did that the first year we were married but never had the time after that.  Will bought himself a bow this summer and is out trying to bloody those shiny tips.

I texted him yesterday and asked how it was going.  He said he had seen a few deer, but was holding out for something bigger.  Knowing the empty state of my freezer, I replied that was probably a good idea - wait for something that would yield more meat.  He replied that  he was more interested in the size of the antlers!  Well, I suppose there is that, too...

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I had my Sunday School class ladies over Friday night.  It was really enjoyable and totally worth cleaning my house for.  We watched "Moms' Night Out" which was in the theaters this summer.  I had heard it was good, but knew nothing about it.  I didn't realize that several of the actors from the Sherwood productions were in this (Fireproof, Courageous, etc) along with Seth Rogan (Rudy) and Patricia Heaton.  Oh my goodness - it was laugh-out-loud hilarious.  I absolutely loved it.  I am not one to watch movies repeatedly, but I'm going to buy this one.  And it was perfectly clean - not a single swear word or suggestive comment.

But...like nearly everything else in life, there were moments in the film that made me sad.  Three of the four moms portrayed in the film were married to great, supportive guys who were so, so happy to see them after their crazy night out.  It brought back to mind a few times that I went out, stayed late, and when I got home, Paul had flowers or something in the kitchen waiting for me.  Or he'd wake up and talk, just to see how my night went.  I miss having that.

I miss him.

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A little while ago I heard one of the widows in one of my FB groups make the comment that her husband had "spent the rest of his life" with her.  I've been mulling that over ever since.  Factually, that's true of everyone widowed.  But I do like the sound of it, as if our husbands made the choice to spend the rest of their lives with us and then happily died after doing so.  Actually, since we started dating at 19,  I can say that Paul spent his entire adult life with me.  But I won't be able to say the same about myself in regards to him.  He got me for 20 years.  But I still have a lot of life that will be spent either alone or with a future spouse.

I've had another chill-giving experience.  A week ago today I was in church and during the third song of the morning service I took the girls down to children's church, as is customary.  The song was still going on as I walked back up the steps to the foyer after dropping them off.  As I walked up the steps I could just swear I heard Paul's voice singing with the congregation.  Paul loved to sing and he joyfully entered into all the congregational singing, as well as being part of the choir and singing occasional solos.  However, even while alive I really doubt I could have heard his voice from the sanctuary clear down to the steps.  Obviously it was just my wistful imagination, wishing it was him I was hearing.  But boy, it sounded so real.

Thursday, I got a text from my friend, Jenny.  She told me that Sunday she had been convinced that she heard Paul singing in the congregation.  Will was with us that morning so she was wondering if Will sounded like Paul when he sings.

He doesn't.  Will is a quiet singer.  While Paul sang loudly and sometimes put his own fanciful twist on the ends of songs (a fact that always embarrassed me) Will is very content to sing exactly what's in the hymnbook and for God's ears only.  So I know Jenny wasn't hearing Will sing.

I told her all that, pushed send on the phone, and looked at my arm.

Goose bumps.

Or, as I like to think of it - a hug from God.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Day 519

DIARY OF AN UNWILLING WIDOW

Nov. 4, 2014

Day 519

 

Election Day...finally. Tomorrow we get to go back to empty mailboxes and watching commercials about bladder control and cleaning products. Yay!   Ben insisted on accompanying me to the polls tonight.  I had thought, time-wise, it might be best for me to do my voting during the day but he would have none of that.  He had to go with me.  He wanted to see how the process works.  So I showed him, step by step.  He stood there, peering over my shoulder at my ballot and then offering suggestions on who I should vote for.  He even wanted to know what LIB stood for  (libertarian).

 

I think that Ben will probably have to do his voting in the future by absentee ballot.  He's going to need some assistance with filling in ovals and such.  But we can still do it together that way.  Right now Ben's guardianship papers are being drawn up and it was suggested to me today to make sure a line is put in there that retains his voting rights.  I talked to the county auditor a few years ago about Ben and he said that it is only in very rare cases that voting rights are suspended for the mentally handicapped.  But I want to make sure of that so I dropped a note to my attorney today.

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Parent teacher conferences this evening...I thought about not going since I feel like I keep in regular contact with Ben's teachers and we have an IEP meeting in two weeks anyway.  But I went.  It was nice.  I stopped in and saw his PE teacher who oversees his weight training.  This guy was one of Will's football coaches.  He told me that Will drops by regularly to see him.  He said one day he was out of his office and when he came back in, there was Will, sitting in his chair, just waiting for him!  Will is very seriously looking at going into coaching and teaching for a career so I think he looks to this man as a mentor.  It helps that he is a Christian, too. 

 

I had a nice chat with Ben's resource teachers.  I didn't realize that they had moved Ben up to a ninth grade reading level workbook.  I'm shocked!  They were telling me that Ben has some really, really deep thoughts that he expresses in his writing.  I have noticed that when they remember to send me emails with his probes.  They told me that Ben has really latched onto the history of black people in particular.  So they've run with that, really doing a lot with Dr. Martin Luther King in their teaching.  His teacher even seemed a bit hesitant at first but she finally admitted that they've used the fact that Ben has black sisters to make it relatable.  I think that's great.  To a certain extent, the girls' racial history has now become our own.  Ben doesn't really talk much at home so I don't hear these things from him.

 

And then one of his teachers shocked me by telling me that Ben was very nearly voted onto this year's homecoming court.  What?!  She said she would not be surprised if he makes it next year.  Wow, ok.  Then, she asked me how I felt about prom.  I didn't know I needed to feel anything about prom.  I've been ignoring all the emails sent to me as a junior parent about prom because it didn't even occur to me that Ben would ever go.  But apparently, this teacher has heard talk amongst some girls about the possibility that Ben might be a desirable date.  Really?  My Ben?  I guess they have a big entrance thingy where parents and townspeople gather in the gym and each couple is announced.  The dance isn't really a big deal, but apparently the after-prom party is a big draw.  So...I don't know what to think, really.  I guess we'll wait to see what happens.  Prom must be a really big deal there if people are already talking about it six months before the event. Ben's teachers were repeatedly stressing to me how popular Ben is at school, which is something that kind of floors me to think about. 

 

I remember when Ben was born the NICU sent home a little booklet with him that had tips for raising a child with special needs.  One was to "always dress your child nicely" because that would help his acceptability levels in the world.  Later, I would also hear to stress teaching politeness above all else to the child.  There's definitely merit to both of those.  The world can be a rough, tough place and it's going to be hard if you go through it being different from everyone else.  That's just the way it is.  But if your child has a pleasing appearance and is a nice, polite person, that's really going to help pave his way. 

 

I always thought maybe I was too hard on Ben during his younger years.  Often I felt like I was "picking" on him about every single thing.  But you know - maybe that was exactly the right thing to do.  Maybe those training years helped form him into the pleasant young man he is today.  I don't know.  It may just be maturity, too.

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You know who needs some maturity?  Ellie.  Last week she was not quite as evil as she had been in previous weeks.  She's making up for it this week.  So far, she has drawn all over the top of the washing machine with a ball point pen (that will NOT scrub off - I've tried a magic eraser, hairspray, everything I can think of), stuffed the toilet with a torn off page from a magazine, spit on several people, snuck the ipad into her bedroom and hid it, and had multiple tantrums.  I spent most of yesterday up at City Hall catching up on things and at one point had to drive home and discipline Ellie after a phone call from a fed-up David.  It's been a rule for several weeks now that she cannot be anywhere in the house unattended.  She was down in the laundry room tonight with Lizzie while Lizzie hunted for some pjs.  She had her back turned on her  sister and in that time, Ellie grabbed the prewash spray and liberally doused loads of clean laundry on the floor.

 

The worst part?  It's only Tuesday.

 

She did crack me up the other day.  I was putting some jello in the fridge and she very seriously asked me, "Mommy, is that alcohol?"  What?  I don't drink!  Where did she even learn that very grown-up word?

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Lizzie came into the kitchen a few days ago, sighing.  She said, "I want to be a cheerleader SO bad, Mom..."  That's no secret.  Ever since she came to me, I have noticed the absolute fascination Lizzie has with cheerleaders.  We go to football games to watch a game and enjoy the atmosphere.  Lizzie creeps down to the ground and stands gazing, awe-struck at the pretty teenagers jumping around and shaking their pom poms.  And then she added pitifully, "But I can't, because I'm black and don't have smooth hair!"

 

What?  So I immediately took her to my bedroom computer and googled "black cheerleader images."  There was no shortage of those, although most were bursting out of their too-tight outfits and a lot of them seemed to have straightened their hair.  But we finally did find some bushy-haired cheerleaders and that fact seemed to greatly encourage Lizzie.  I should get her some pom poms for Christmas.

 

  I imagine that Ellie would have great fun destroying them, though...

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The other day I asked David to throw a load of clothes from the washer into the dryer. 

 

"Ok, Mom!"

 

Later, I was in the laundry room and went to get the clothes out of the dryer.  I opened the door and found the clothes still very soggy.  I asked David about that and he looked surprised.

 

"Oh - you wanted me to start the dryer?  You only said to put the clothes in the dryer."

 

If I keep banging my head on the washing machine lid will I dent it one of these days?

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Will turned 20 on Sunday.  Now I can no longer say I have three teenage sons or refer to my Littles and my Teenagers.  It's going to be more awkward to refer to them as a group.  Anyway, he came home Sat. evening after he got done working and spent the night.  The next day he went to church with us, both services.  In the evening there was a SNAG for the teens and college-agers so he got to go to that, too.

 

Birthdays aren't quite as exciting when you get to be 20.  He already knew what he was getting from me.  Although David did surprise him by buying him a sonic screwdriver (Dr. Who).  But he must have had a good day because he put the most incredibly touching post on FB later.  Maybe it was just touching because he is not one to drop compliments freely - ever, really.

 

Thanks for the birthday wishes all. It was a good day. Some of my favorite cooking from my mom(who just happens to be probably the best cook ever) and fun time spent with my church family. Now, less than one year until I can have my carry permit.

"Best cook ever"?  Wow...

We had frozen pizza tonight, by the way.  Even the Best Cook Ever needs a quick meal from time to time.

Like about every third night.

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They've started Christmas program practices at church already - 4 pm every Sunday until Christmas with a couple of Saturdays in there, too.  That's going to be a bit of a pain.  Sure wish David already knew and could drive.  But I'll do it.  David was asked to be a wise man.  He's got a number of lines.  Ben is Joseph.  I'm looking forward to the pictures I'll be able to snap of the two of them during the program.

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Sunday, an 11 year old boy at church called out to me as I was passing through the fellowship hall, "You sure look nice today, Mrs. Heywood!"  That tickled me.  There aren't too many 11 year olds with that much gumption.  And I guess I'm vain enough to appreciate the compliment, no matter where it comes from.  That's one thing I really miss about being married - the constant affirmation of my looks from Paul.  Granted, he would have thought I was hot even with a bag over my head, but it was still nice to hear it.

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I'm feeling good these days.  It occurred to me last week maybe that  I am doing really, really well right now.  I have not felt this good since before Paul died.  I am wondering if perhaps I have turned a corner in this grieving?  I don't know.

Here's what's almost reassuring to me: the sadness is still there.  It's not that I don't think of Paul anymore.  And it's not that I do not have any moments of sadness.  They're there, but they lack the power they used to have.  I don't feel overwhelmed by them anymore.

Is this permanent?  I have no idea.  The holidays are coming.  I will spend them without Paul.  His birthday is coming.  We will celebrate without him.  Then, it will be time for Valentine's Day and I won't receive one from him.  A week later will be our wedding anniversary and there will be no one to tell me he'd marry me all over again if he could.  And then a month later I will have a birthday and receive all kinds of greetings but there won't be one from the person I'd most like to wish me a happy birthday.

On top of that, it's going to be winter. 

Cold.

Gray.

So these good feelings may very well be very, very temporary.

It's ok.  I have already lived through the worst.  I can survive more.  I'm fairly confident that one does not wrap up a season of grieving in less than 17 months.

Just the same, things are changing.

I sense it.

 I welcome it.

 

 

 

Day 515

DIARY OF AN UNWILLING WIDOW

 

Oct. 31, 2014

 

Day 515

 

Halloween and Lizzie's 6th birthday...I think I'm ready for bed!  Actually, this year, the city council decided they'd rather do Beggar's Night than Halloween, like they have in the past.  Beggar's Night is a central Iowa tradition that started in 1939 because of all the vandalism that was occurring on Halloween night.  Apparently, it worked, and trick or treating has happened on the 30th ever since.  So last night was our Halloween, which works out better with Lizzie's birthday being on the 31st, anyway.

 

We carved pumpkins a few nights ago.  Missing Paul kind of hit me hard then.  He really enjoyed Halloween and was always present when we did the pumpkins.  Maybe one of the reasons I was missing him was because I had to carve four pumpkins by myself (the Littles and Ben)!

 

David and I took the Littles out last night.  We walked all around Swan.  Then, the mayor convinced me to bring everyone down to Pleasantville for more trick or treating.  I left David at home with Ben who was handing out treats. 

 

We're so used to the lack of crowds up here, but there were packs of children going door to door down there!  I had to hold tight to Ellie's hand.  I've always been aware of one house (actually it's our old garbageman's) that goes all out for  the holidays.  He's got blow-up decorations of all ilk.  I rather imagine he needs a separate storage building for all he has.  What I didn't realize was that he's created an actual haunted house throughout his wrap-around porch and yard.  It was amazing!  He even had red water flowing through his backyard fountain.  The kids insisted on going through twice.  Ellie wasn't too crazy about it so Steve (mayor) carried her.  But wow...David was plenty irritated when we got home and found out what it was he had missed.  Next year!

 

Halloween has changed for me with Paul's death.  I get a little queasy now about skeletons, graveyards, and stuff like that.  Maybe in time I'll feel better about it.  It's still pretty new.  I still love Halloween, but not so much the focus on death.

 

My kids, however, have absolutely no problem with it.  As I was tucking Sam in last night he had some questions about mausoleums, of all things.  Then he commented that he could see how the ribs on a skeleton would be a really great place for a spider to build its web.  Then, he said, "Hey, Mom, do you suppose since Dad doesn't have any eyes anymore (they were donated) bugs crawl through those holes?"  Eww...That kid is lucky he has me for a mom.  I may be one of the few moms on the planet who could calmly answer, "Well, I suppose that's a possibility!"

 

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So, October is over.  Mid-way through the month it dawned on me that I just was not hearing much this year about pink.  You know - breast cancer awareness month.  It seems like every year for awhile we've just been bombarded with pink, pink, pink.  I wonder if the interest is fading away.  I'm all for breast cancer research - I've  lost two friends, my age,  to the disease.  But the continued focus was a little wearying.  David commented the same thing to me this week that he noticed there seemed to less emphasis on that, so I don't think it was just me.

 

I am gearing up for Ben's birthday.  Will's is Sunday - all taken care of.  He's coming home tomorrow night after he gets off work.  He requested BBQ meatballs for his birthday dinner, so I can do that.  But Ben is turning 18 in two weeks.  It's kind of a significant birthday for most kids, but it's more so for Ben.  Legally, he is an adult on Nov. 17.  That changes a lot of things.  I sent in paperwork a few weeks ago to Social Security proving he is still in school so they will continue his survivor's benefits.  I believe that's all taken care of.  But since he's 18 he is eligible for Disability.  I do not know if that will kick in as soon as he is approved or if that will only happen once he graduates and is ineligible for Survivors.  Even the guy who did my phone interview from the administration a couple of weeks ago didn't know for sure.  It doesn't really matter, I guess.  We do lose the $300 monthly family support stipend we've received for Ben's care for the past 7 or 8 years, those.  That's going to hurt.

 

So I filled out the paperwork this week for that.  It was dumb.  I basically had to fill out two sets of identical paperwork - one from a third party perspective and one from Ben's.  But since Ben is incapable of filling it out himself I had to do it as him and then include a note stating why I had filled it out (um, because he's disabled, maybe?!).  It was also discouraging.  I had question after question of wanting to know what Ben can and cannot do.  I got midway through and had to vent on Facebook.  Ben isn't a check-off list!  He's funny, caring, helpful, quirky, and so, so loved.  None of this paperwork shows that.  And it doesn't have to.  But I wish it could.  Instead, I will have to trumpet Ben's praises to the world because on paper, he doesn't seem like much of any use at all.

 

I also talked with my attorney this week about filing for guardianship.  Once Nov. 17 rolls around I will not have any say over his medical care or education.  I've decided to have Will be a co-guardian in case I should ever, God-forbid, become incapacitated in some way.  If that happened Ben would be unprotected.   So at some point in the next few weeks we may have to traipse down to the courthouse.  Although, I'm pretty sure my attorney said we wouldn't have to have a hearing, so maybe it's just a matter of signing off on and filing paperwork.  I don't know.  I guess that's what I'm paying him to know.

 

And, of course, November begins the slippery countdown to Christmas. 

 

Ugh.

 

I really don't want another Christmas without Paul.  I've tried writing my annual Christmas letter - twice - and it's still not what I want. I can be fake and sound somewhat cheerful or I can be honest and depress everyone.  I just don't have any real enthusiasm for it yet.  Then, there's the stress of figuring out gifts and doing the shopping (thank you, Lord, for Amazon!) and then finding time to wrap them all.

 

Somewhere in there I've got to get back down to Ottumwa and get the girls' new social security cards before the end of the year and David has to have his permit in order to take Dr. Ed in six months.  I hope I'm wrong, but I won't be surprised if his takes a few tries to obtain.  I did call about that this week and was told I have to have a certified copy of his birth certificate - which I do not have.

 

I don't have one for any of the boys.  I don't know why we never ordered those.  I guess because we didn't need them at the time.  So I sent off to Nebraska for that yesterday.  I don't have one for Will, still, so apparently, this was not needed 6 years ago when he got his permit.

 

As much as I'd just like to skip over to January, I still want to make Christmas memorable for the kids.  I don't want them to eventually start dreading the holidays because mom is a frantic, stressed-out, depressed mess during them.  Last year I did jot down a few ideas of things I'd like for us to do during the next season, which would be this year.  So I need to get on the ball and get things ready so we can do some of those ideas.

 

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But for tonight, it's still autumn.  My kids are full of fun-sized candy bars and birthday cake.  Lizzie finally has her first Barbie dolls, and jack-o-lanterns are  grinning on the front porch.

 

The world is as it should be.

 

 

Day 508

DIARY OF AN UNWILLING WIDOW

Oct. 24, 2014

Day 508

 

Friday night...the girls are in bed, Sam is creating with legos, and Ben is watching tv.  David is at the final football game of the season.  I was going to have to pick him up but he texted me to let me know that Will had told him he was on his way and would pick him up.  Will had to go to a handbell concert tonight at Faith.  He didn't want to go and I don't really blame him.  Handbells are nice and all - our church has a handbell choir, actually - but to sit and listen to them for a couple of hours?  I'd probably take an ink pen and impale myself to end the misery...What he really wanted to do was go to the football game.  He thought and thought and even actually (!) asked my advice.  I told him to go to the concert.  It's probably going to be his only year at Faith and it's not worth the hassle of trying to get out of the concert.  Besides, it would fulfill one of his concert requirements for his music class.  So he went.  I'm just thankful I don't have to pick David up because it would mean loading up everybody and of course, it would be a traffic nightmare arriving there as the game ends.  So, all is well that ends well, including this week.

 

And...what a week it has been.  Ellie has continued her reign of terror.  The more I observe and look, I just don't see anything that appears to be brain-damage like to account for her choices.  I think she's just bad!  Hopefully, for a season only.  Although, to be honest, I've had visions this week of her in another decade, when she's a young teenager, dressed in stilettos and a leather bra and short, short skirt knocking off a liquor store.  I sincerely hope this is a case of my mind leaping to a worst case scenario.

 

This week, she:

 

* helped herself to Sam's birthday candy bar bouquet.  A lady at church knew Sam had a birthday this week so she did the cutest thing.  She took a mug and bought all these candy bars and taped them, along with some one dollar bills to thin sticks and made a "bouquet" for him.  He was thrilled!  I suggested he keep it in his bedroom so as to not tempt/make the girls feel bad.  That wasn't enough for Ellie.  Lizzie discovered empty sticks under her bed and promptly tattled on her sister. 

 

* Tuesday morning I was awakened at 4:40 in the morning.  Ellie was sitting on the couch surrounded by empty candy wrappers.  She knew where I had the Halloween candy and helped herself to it in the middle of the night.  The worst part  about that was that I was unable to fall back to sleep after dealing with her.

 

* took a paddle and deliberately smashed a light bulb with it - over a drawer full of clothing, which meant every item in the drawer had to be re-washed

 

* emptied half my bottle of peppermint oil into my expensive jar of Clinique age-staving-off cream.  It's too expensive to throw out so now I just have to burn my face every night.  Wrinkles might be the preferred alternative.

 

* snuck off with one of Sam's birthday cupcakes.  He requested "Spiderman" cupcakes so I scoured Pinterest and found how to make web-looking cupcakes with a tube of red frosting and a toothpick.  I then arranged them all carefully on a plate and put a big number 7 in the middle of the cupcake.  She took one and devoured it in her bedroom

 

* got into a small bottle of touch up paint I had made for my van.  It's oil-based and very, very sticky

 

The one nice thing I can report about all this misbehavior is that  the worse Ellie is, the better behaved Lizzie seems to be.  Maybe she's just relishing her role as chief reporter, I don't know.  Although, one day this week I discovered half a bottle of laundry detergent in the laundry room garbage!  Fortunately, I had just changed the garbage so the bag was pretty empty.  Otherwise, I might never have noticed.  When questioned (ok, yelled at) Lizzie shrugged and said, "I just wanted to see what color it was!"  Argh!  Mean mom that I am, I handed her a table spoon and made her scoop it out of the garbage and painstakingly put it back into the detergent bottle.

 

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So, all day Tues. I was functioning on about 5 hours of sleep because of Ellie's nocturnal wanderings.  That night I put the girls down early and I was in bed by 8:45 - unheard of.  I got TEN hours of sleep.  Oh, boy, that felt good!

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Sam just wandered into my room where I am typing and asked me what "stress" is.  He must have heard the word somewhere.  I wonder how he knew how to ask ME about that word?!

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With all his classes, Will is struggling the  most with his music one.  He finally got the results back for his first test.  He was hoping to clear a 50% on that one.  He just did not have a good feeling about it all and was a little stressed that his low grade in that class might affect his scholarships.  He finally got the result this week.

 

He got a 95%.

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I am reading a tremendously enjoyable book right now.  It's the first in a series of books written about King David's wives.  This one is about Michal, who was, of course, his first wife.  I really enjoy Biblical fiction.  Fiction books are my "language" and it just makes Bible times so real to me.  Now, because of reading this book I have this desire to go through the Psalms again.  Reading some of them in this book in the context in which they may first have been sung/prayed makes them so much more meaningful. I also want to download the other books in this series, if they're written and available yet.

 

A few years ago I actually wrote a fictionalized account of the fall of man in the garden for Faithwriters.  I loved that story. It was my first attempt at fictionalizing biblical history. 

 

Ooh, speaking of FaithWriters - my book is almost out!  Well, not MY book, but they've finally gotten around to publishing some of the editor's picks, so I'm in there.  This week they sent me a copy of my story to approve.  It's the one I wrote about the mom visiting her son in prison.  The entire story is almost all a conversation and then at the very end there's this twist that lets the reader know it wasn't as it appeared.  It isn't just a mother/son phone call.  It's Mom visiting her son behind bars.  I've always been proud of that story.  They had to change my main character's last name, because one of the other authors featured in this book has the same name.  That was total coincidence on my part.  But it was a small change.

 

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Switching gears...

 

Yesterday Paul's dad had another heart attack.  I found it out on Facebook.  It doesn't sound like anything real serious, but  when you're in your seventies and you've already had a massive stroke ( a decade ago) and a previous heart attack a few months ago, I guess nothing is really "minor" anymore.  So that stirs up all kinds of feelings on my end, where I'm probing my conscience again.  Have I handled everything the best I can?  Is there something else I should be doing to encourage reconciliation, particularly before it's too late?  I have found myself praying more in the last few days that God would open my eyes to any responsibility on my end.  But I'm just not seeing it.

 

Still, my heart aches over everything.  I may be completely innocent here, but this is not God's plan for families.  Sigh...

 

And it's coupled with lingering grief, too.  Actually, the grief may always linger.  It's definitely lessening as time goes on but I don't know that it will ever fully leave.  I'm not so sure it's supposed to.

 

One day last week I got really kind of mad.  I am just tired of hurting!  Grief is this continual weight the bereaved wears.  Sometimes it is so heavy the wearer can barely walk under the load.  Other times, it's more like a heavy chain around the neck.  But it is always there.  I just got mad and exclaimed internally,

 

I'm SO tired of hurting!  I DON'T WANT TO HURT anymore!

 

But I still did.  It didn't go away, despite my protesting.  In the beginning, the hurt is almost comforting in a weird way.  It's confirmation that something horrible has happened.  I remember when I'd have an occasional day where the grief lifted that I would almost feel panicky.  What was wrong with me?  Was I not grieving properly because I had a good day?  Where were the expected, daily tears? After all, didn't the depth of my daily grief show how much I loved him?  So, if I didn't feel bad all the time, what did that say about my love for Paul?   And then when the hurt and grief would settle down over me again there would almost be this sigh of relief from my heart.  Ah, there is is!

 

But now - I'm ready to be done.  My life is changed forever.  I can't undo that.   But I don't want to hurt for the rest of my life, either.  I'm ready to start the rest of my life.  Last week at the Piano Guys concert Will snapped a selfie of the two of us.  I put it on Facebook that night.  It was a good picture.  And it didn't make me look fat. That's the main reason it made it onto Facebook.  I am that vain, yes.  The next night an older gentleman at church told me he had seen the picture and commented,

 

"It's good to see you smile again."

 

I want to smile.  I want to mean it.  I want to live again.

 

  But...it's been 16 months.  It's only been 16 months.  I think I'm probably being a little too unrealistic to think I can recover from losing the love of my life in less than a year and a half.

 

I get Facebook updates from Widows Wear Stilettos which is the book I ordered and read this summer (really, really good book).  One day this week the author made the comment that if anyone suggested to us that we should be "over" things by now or should be moving on at a faster clip, we would be rightfully offended.  But how often are we telling ourselves that same thing as widows?  It definitely made me stop and think.  I am too impatient with myself. 

 

Grief is a process and it cannot be hurried.  It's just getting a little more uncomfortable for me right now, I guess.

 

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It will be a busy weekend.  Tomorrow night is our annual Swan bonfire.  I don't know if the mayor is planning a wagon ride like we usually do or not.  I would guess not since I am the one who owns the hay rack and he hasn't said anything to me yet about it!  The mayor is supposed to be buying that from me, but so far, it's still sitting out beside the garage.  So I will spend some time tomorrow cooking for the meal.

 

Sunday Amanda the Panda (grief services) is paying for all of us to go to a pumpkin patch/fall fun place in Mitchellville.  Will is even going to go to church with us that morning and then go with us.  It should be fun. 

 

The Littles have all come down with colds this week and today my throat started feeling scratchy.  Oh, no... So I've been applying thieves oil and another oily concoction I made up to my feet bottoms and chest all day.  I hope I can keep it from getting any worse. 

 

A funny to end with: Lizzie asked me this morning if she could wear her "yogurt" pants.  She loves those things.  They were in some hand-me-downs passed to me by someone.  I didn't have the heart to tell her they're actually called "yoga" pants.  I guess "yogurt" probably makes more sense in her mind anyway!