Opera

Tomorrow night Kaylyn and I will attend the last opera of the season. It's hard to believe Jane and Michael were going in our place last year. Steve had died. We were waiting on plans to get finalized, family members to arrive. I had to have Barbara tell them to go and not tell me anything about it unless I asked. I still haven't asked. Probably never will.

This has been a long week. A lot of self-doubt, second guessing myself...not listening to my gut instinct...that internal voice. I'm coming back around to listen to it now (thanks Bill!) I'm going to have to sit with the negative feelings for a while so I can let them go and move on. Pushing those feelings away (my response)this week and trying to focus on the the intent of a message has not served me well this week. It has actually made me more confused and doubting myself. Hopefully I'll learn not to fall into the same pot hole again and again. Soon I'll learn to walk around it.

Picking up the pieces

It's been a year. Wow...no magic healing...we still miss him, we still mourn him, we still talk about him, we still build a new day without him...and it is all okay. Are we happy all the time? NO! Do we have more good times than sad times? YES!!!

Gen and I went to see the high school play Saturday. When we were walking back to our car Gen asked me if when she is in high school will I come to see her if she is in the school play. I said "of course!" She was quiet for a moment and then asked..."but what if you are dead?" Oh, my little angel. The hardest part of this journey has been seeing my children deal with the uncertainty of life...once the sanctity of life has been breached. I assured her that I had no plans of dieing...but her daddy didn't have any plans of dieing either. I can't promise her that nothing will happen to me...but I can promise her that she will be well taken care of if something does happen to me. And that she is LOVED and CARED for and provided a SAFE PLACE to process and feel her emotions. That's what I can do...as little as it seems at times.

One Year Ago

One year ago today...he was gone. His body was there, the machines kept his lungs breathing, his blood pumping, but he was gone. He died in the wee hours of the morning. Barbara and I were there. The monitors told us. But the machines kept him breathing, heart kept pumping. At least some good could come from the unthinkable...Steve dieing. We waited at the hospital while the organ transplant team did their work. What can they use, what will go where. Everyone was so patient with me...I couldn't leave with him still lying there, waiting for his next purpose in life...in death. Time kept getting pushed back and we ended up at the hospital a day longer. Even though we were all so terribly exhausted...we were able to spend time in saying good bye...to Steve's physical presence. His spirit had already soared to greater heights.

Remembering Steve

Yesterday we had a wonderful gathering partly to remember Steve and most importantly, for me, to show my appreciation to all the wonderful people who have been with us this past year. Over 50 people came. It was quite amazing for me to see the number of people who have entered our lives since Steve died. I remember when dad died and how many people disappeared from our lives. I personally thought it was because Tom had entered our lives and people didn't like him. But I have come to surmise that it is more because people are so uncomfortable with death and grief...they (the people) run the other way because they don't want to have anything so horrible close to them. Yes, being with a grieving person takes extra care. They might cry or want to talk about the person that died. Heaven forbid anyone show vulnerable emotions. I managed to make it through the time without tears. It was nice to see people...but it wasn't until I got home...the house was quiet, a glass of wine and Pachelbel's Canon playing on the CD player. Then the hole opened up, the emptiness engulfed me and the pain took over. I cried and cried. Bill was so patient and kind talking me through it. The pain must be felt...there is no one and nothing that can take it away. It's like a miserable bear hunt...I can't go around it, can't go over it, can't go under it...I MUST Go Through It. And through it I will...with the help of my friends. Thank you, all you friends out there...without you, going through it would be unimaginable.

Held

Two months is too little

They let him go

They had no sudden healing

To think that providence

Would take a child from his mother

While she prays, is appalling

Who told us we'd be rescued

What has changed and

Why should we be saved from nightmares

We're asking why this happens to us

Who have died to live, it's unfair

This is what it means to be held

How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life

And you survive

This is what it is to be loved and to know

That the promise was when everything fell

We'd be held

This hand is bitterness

We want to taste it and

Let the hatred numb our sorrows

The wise hand opens slowly

To lilies of the valley and tomorrow

This is what it means to be held

How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life

And you survive

This is what it is to be loved and to know

That the promise was when everything fell

We'd be held

If hope is born of suffering

If this is only the beginning

Can we not wait, for one hour

Watching for our savior

This is what it means to be held

How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life

And you survive

This is what it is to be loved and to know

That the promise was when everything fell

We'd be held

Steve was not my child...he was my husband, yet he was my life. I miss him. I miss our life. The pain is real and thank God I have some amazing family and friends who support me unfailingly. This is how God is holding us...sending us friends who are there through it all.

Getting Closer

How do you forgive someone for dying? It's not like he had a choice. Dying was not what he wanted. He always promised that he would be here...forever. We loved each other...we worked hard to get to a place in our relationship where we moved together in a rhythm all our own. It worked...so I thought. Why did it have to vanish? Why did my nice comfortable life have to end? My heart aches...there is this ball in my chest...it's like a tangled up ball of yarn. I try to put it apart and untangle it bit by bit. Will it ever get untangled? It will be a week less than a year ago tomorrow that Steve had his stroke. This past year has been a very long ride on this roller coaster of life. Perhaps it's been a tilt-a-whirl rather than a roller coaster. The ride continues....