Day 146

DIARY OF AN UNWILLING WIDOW

Oct. 29. 2013

 

Day 146

 

Speaking of songs, I’ve got another current favorite.  It came out this summer – called “Oh, Sweet Lorraine.”  There was a lot of hullabaloo about it when it was released.  The story behind it is sweet.  A 90 something year old man lost his wife last April.  He wrote a short song about missing her, entered it in a recording contest, and they ended up recording it for him.  Once the story behind the song was released it got all kinds of hits on youtube and was downloaded a lot off itunes (yes, I was one of the downloaders!).  It’s been making me cry lately. 

 

Oh Sweet Lorraine
I wish we could do
The good times
All over again

Oh sweet Lorraine
Life only goes around
Once
But never again

Oh sweet Lorraine
I wish we could do
All the good times all over
Again

 
The good times
The good times
The good times
All over again

But the memories always
Linger on
Oh sweet Lorraine
No I don’t wanna move on
Oh the memories
always linger on
Oh sweet Lorraine

 

I just identify, you know?  Paul and I only had two decades; the author of this song had seven with his wife.  But I get what he’s saying.  He misses his other half.  Probably nearly everything good in his life had to do with his Lorraine and now it’s over.  I feel the same way, although, realistically, I know that I have enough life left to live that it is possible I may find happiness again someday without Paul.  I don’t quite believe it yet, though.

 

And maybe this has to do with the feelings of regret that have been crowding in again lately.  I know that neither God nor Paul holds me accountable for sins committed in my marriage, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t things I wish I could go back and correct or not do in the first place.  I would have been a happier wife.  I wouldn’t have nitpicked so much.  I would have accepted him more for the person he was created to be, rather than trying to re-shape him into the one I thought he should be. I would have been content.  I would have taken more joy in the little things with him.   I read what I write here and it sounds like we had a miserable marriage.  We didn’t.  It was actually a very, very good marriage – the majority of the time, anyway.  But I could have done better.  I would have done better if I had known our time together would be so short. 

 

All the things we did – living life, vacationing, hanging drywall, running errands, date nights, birthday parties with the kids, their births, the long talks, the sex,  the illnesses…every single little thing was a memory in the making.  And we didn’t even recognize it.

 

That’s why I cry when I  listen to “Oh, Sweet Lorraine.”

 

 

I had a horrible dream this morning.  I’m still puzzling it out to see what deeper meaning it has.  There may not be one.  I dreamed it was the girls’ adoption day and it was too cold to wear the sun dresses I had had made for their special day.  So, at the last minute, I am scrambling to find decent, long sleeved clothes for them to wear to court.  And then I can’t find their shoes.  I finally end up with some black jelly sandals for Ellie but they’re really too big for her.  Sam is wearing a pair of overalls that Will wore when he was about 3 years old.  Why I dreamed about those, I don’t know.  They were cute – white with multi-colored little animals all over them. But I haven’t seen them since the older boys were little!  And then in my dream it’s 6:48pm and we’re supposed to be in court by 7 and I still don’t have the kids in the van and it takes a good half hour to get to the downtown.  Sam comes down the stairs in his overalls wearing a pair of Lizzie’s purple dressy flats (that she doesn’t have – showed up in the dream, though) and I decide it doesn’t matter – he can just wear them.  I woke up just panting and frantic.  Is this a reaction to my current life – feeling so far behind and out of control about everything? Lately, through this Bible study I’m currently doing, I’ve begun to finally recognize that I have some perfectionist tendencies (which surprises me, given the usual state of my house).  So maybe the dream is tied up with that.  Whatever it is, it  was one disturbing dream, that’s for sure!

 

 

I’ve had several really nice things happen in the last few days.  Last Thursday was a banner day.  I had a visit from a couple of widow ladies at church.  They’ve been out before since Paul’s death and I appreciate talking with them so much.  They understand my current obsession with death and dying.  They encourage me to talk about Paul.  Then, just a little bit later our old licensing worker (“old” as in the past; she’s actually younger than me) stopped by – just to see me because she was in the neighborhood.  What an encouragement that was!

 

  In the mail that same day was a card addressed to me with only my name, city, state and zipcode – no street address.  Another advantage of small town living – our mailman and the lady at the post office know who I am!  It was from one of my high school teachers.  In fact, she is the reason I can write today.  I waved the card at the boys and told them, “This lady is the reason you call me a ‘grammar nazi’!”  They just rolled their eyeballs.  But it’s true.  I always spoke well because that’s what I grew up around.  But I struggled with language as a subject in school.  I didn’t know grammar, despite being able to speak it.  In fact, I think I got a “D” my freshman year in that subject, I was so terrible at it.  But my junior year, this lady taught it.  I don’t know if it was her teaching, or it was just my time, but that year, English “clicked” for me and I ran with it.  I learned so much from her that year – thank you, Mrs. Skillen!  She’s also an adoptive mom so she wanted to both console me on Paul’s death and congratulate me on the girls’ adoption.  It was nice.

 

And then Ben’s vocal concert was Thurs. night.  Those always make me nervous.  I worry how Ben will do on stage.  I usually dread the fall one because it’s a variety show and it traditionally goes SO long.  But we were out of there in 40 minutes!  They have a new, just-graduated, teacher this year.  I saw her tonight at parent/teacher conferences and thanked her for the short program last week.  They did have a couple of freshman girls doing hip-hop dance routines, which was something new.  Personally, I could have done without them, particularly the second one because her moves were rather um, attention getting.  In fact, I thought to myself, “Well, at least none of the boys are here tonight!” And then I remembered that Ben was there and watching.  Sigh…  Lizzie attended with me, though.  At one point she laced her fingers through mine and I couldn’t help but admire the small brown fingers wrapped around my large white ones. I pointed out to her that our hands were symbolic of our life – tightly bound together now.  I reminded her again that she was now mine and no matter what happened – what she might do, where she might go, I would always be there for her.  She huffed and sighed, “Mo-o-om!  I know all that!”  So much for sweet mother/daughter moments!

 

I do have one sweetie, though.  Ellie has begun blowing kisses to nearly every one she sees.  I have no idea where she learned this, but she has the moves perfected.  Of course, everyone thinks it’s adorable and that they are special when she does it.  I’ve had to tell a few to not read too much into it because she’s also blowing kisses to the clock repair guy and store clerks!

 

Well, I’ve got more to write but it will have to wait.  Despite crying to “Sweet Lorraine” and the afore-mentioned nightmare this morning it’s been a good day.  As of two days ago, I now have an actual laundry room to do my laundry in, which is wonderful (thank you, Will and church guys!)!  I got quite a bit crossed off on my to-do list, I had great parent/teacher conferences this afternoon at Ben’s school (he is adored, per the norm – I hear the exact thing from every single teacher!  It’s either a conspiracy or he truly does shine at that school), I made a hot dinner for the kids, I got the last of the summer clothes packed away,  and I didn’t feel quite as consumed by the grief today. 

 

Tomorrow may not be so good, but that’s ok, too.  There will be other good days.