Two years ago this week. |
Such a journey from then until now. Up until 10 months ago, tomorrow, it was John and me, finally really understanding what love is, and living it every day as one--maybe for the first time since we were newlyweds. This is the time when we really realized we meant all the vows we said to each other on that early September day in 1994.
Lately, I've been struggling with a few things.
I keep replaying certain things through the last five years or so...how I really didn't like it that John played video games all the time. How he didn't stand up for himself sometimes. Even to me. Other things. And I would lose my patience with him.
And beating myself up over how I should have done things.
He wanted a scooter. I was terrified for him, and kept asking him not to get one. He wanted a tattoo (at least early on in the marriage), and I told him my apprehensions. He never got a tattoo. He never got a scooter, even though I was about ready to give in just before he got sick.
But then I remember good things. Going to movies. Playing trivia (and boy, he was so smart!). Talking about books and music and politics and photography and animals. How I love that he took up gardening. And for me, he became a big Spartan football fan, even though he'd really not watched much sports in his life before me.
And some of the travels we had--most memorable, was the honeymoon in 1994, the trip to Valparaiso for the beagle nationals, the trip to see our nephew graduate from the University of Maine, and the trip to Florida in 2010 to celebrate my 50th birthday...and even the second trip weeks later for a sad event--to see his dying mother for the last time--and the trip to New York for his father's funeral.
And after the cancer invaded our lives, we grew closer and closer--even though things were getting better anyway...the cancer just made us stronger, I think. And you know what? John forgave me for the stupid things I did. I know he did. He told me so--a day or two after his surgery, I cried as I walked with him along the hallway of the Neuro-ICU. He asked what was wrong. I said, "I'm so sorry for how I treated you recently!" He had such a sweet smile on his face, kind of incredulous at the same time...and his words to me were: "I don't remember any of that!"
I think about how our lives revolved around schedules, medications, doctor's appointments...and how we were so tired but always held each other up. I remember the night we thought our new furnace was broken. No heat, and it was a cold winter night in early 2012. Rather than calling someone that night, we just held on tight. Sometimes I can still remember how good that felt. How tired we were, but we knew we'd be okay because we kept each other warm. And the spooning again that very last night at home before that morning that we ran to the hospital--John in the only time when he was in excruciating pain (from the meningitis). We were together, watching Craig Ferguson and giggling like crazy. I've only recently been able to watch that show again. And it's just not funny to me anymore.
And sitting in Stoneleigh Residence on May 4, 2012, his first night of what would be 8 months in hospice...deleting those alarms for the meds. The moment I went from the caregiver/spouse that I was for six months...to being his wife and life partner. I am so grateful to the staff at the hospice for giving us this precious gift of time together. They took such good care of us.
All the people took great care of us...from the people at Beggar's Banquet, to the paramedics, to the hospital staff, to the doctors and surgeons and their staff...to the volunteers at the cancer center...all the way to the wonderful folks at Stoneleigh.
And our friends and families...words cannot express how thankful we were/I am for all the support, prayers, and love outpouring for us.
So very thankful.
And that gets to the other thing on my mind right now--something I've mentioned before.
The holidays.
I am dreading them. They've never been the same since my brother died in 1999, and with each loss, it gets harder. But this year? The worst. I heard about a really cool thing someone did on the first holiday family meal they had without their spouse. They set a place for them and left that chair empty. I think that's lovely.
Not sure what I'm doing on the holidays; I'll take them as I can. The choir I'm in is helping a great deal. It's the only time I'm able to sing Christmas music without crying. And the annual Lansing event called Silver Bells? I can't go to it again...at least not for a long time. John and I went to the one in 2010 together and had a wonderful time. I remember (kind of laughing about it now as I picture it) we decided to leave the car at home and take the bus--something that was very wise because it gets crazy in downtown Lansing. We stood near the state Christmas tree in front of the capital and watched the lights turn on and the fireworks display.
We decided we'd walk home after getting a cup of cocoa. He was used to walking that far, because it wasn't much further than his office to home. Well, about half way home, I was in a LOT of pain. But he helped me get home by letting me lean on him.
He was always taking care of me. Even when I didn't realize it.
I know I will be okay. I just have to get through the holidays, even though they're pretty much shoved in my face. No one's fault. I don't want to take away the joy from others, of course.
I used to love Christmas. And Thanksgiving.
Another thing I took great joy in has given me a bit of sorrow lately. I've seen several movies when I'm trying to find something to occupy time...and about 90% of the time, I can't get through without crying. You see, John and I met over movies. We were both on a movie listserv beginning in around 1993, and you could say we were pioneers in the land of internet dating--only we didn't meet on a dating site and neither of was really looking when we found each other.
So most movies and a great deal of music is kinda ruined for me right now. I have to choose stuff very carefully.
A friend came to visit me on the night John first was checked into the hospital. She, too, is missing her husband a great deal. She said to me something like "This is going to hurt like nothing else you've experienced."
She was right. I miss him all the time.
Now, I don't want people to think I'm crippled by grief. Well, in some ways, I guess I am. But I manage to function. I go to work. I am gradually adding a few activities to my daily routine. I'm working on my health. I'm planning trips. I had the roof fixed. I have someone mowing the lawn and hopefully shoveling my driveway when the snow flies this winter.
But there's this huge huge hole that I don't think will ever be filled with anything other than the complete love I feel for John.
Thank everyone for their support of us and of me after John passed ten months ago.
Thank you, John, for being a part of my life--however brief that time was.
There's a quote I kept thinking about from a song. I'll end with that:
The Nature Boy
There was a boy
A very strange enchanted boy
They say he wandered very far, very far,
Over land and sea.
A little shy
And sad of eye,
But very wise, very wise was he
Until one day,
One lucky day he passed my way,
And while we talked of many things
Fools and kings,
This he said to me:
"The greatest thing,
You'll ever learn
Is just to love
And be loved
In return.
And thanks to you, John, I know that I have loved and have been loved in return, and that it's better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. Thanks for allowing me to go on the journey with you.
Love always,
Your Girl.