Change or not

In the military one of the old sayings I've heard is "The only thing consistent around here is change".   As I progress through my change in life I'm torn between the need for consistency and the need to jettison painful memories.   They aren't bad memories.  They are memories that wake me in the wee hours of the morning, they are memories that crush my heart and soul on days when I can't keep focused.  I'd like them to stop haunting me and become part of me much like many, many of my good memories.

This morning I was working on Christmas cards to folks that don't know Mary died, what do I tell them, how do I tell them and what is the appropriate way to address the subject.   I thought a Haiku might be nice or a poem, but I was just kidding around, I've prepared a short note to go in card.  Then the next song in the rotation started,  I could name that tune in 4 notes "Where Were You (When the World Stopped Turning) by Alan Jackson.  This is a song about the Twin Towers and 9/11.   It just so happens that my wife had her heart attack on 9/11 and eleven years later she died on 9/11.   Combine, the cards, my thoughts and the song and I spent the next many minutes trying to release my emotions, then subsequently regain control, I have lots of things that need to be done today.  Whenever I am captured by one of these moments I look for the cause and the I try to figure out what I need to change to keep myself in control.   No I won't be giving up Alan Jackson.  No I won't ignore the cards.

Consistency no longer seems like an option.   Yes I need some structure and some schedule to things, but I'm not sure that means consistency.   Bring on the changes but help me to remember all the good, and put it in proper perspective.

Wine of the month?  Malbach  Cigar of the month? Black Market Torpedo.  Liqueur of the month? Limoncello by Il Tramonto.

Bullshit!!!

I'm throwing the Bullshit Flag on this folks.   One too many times in the past three months someone has said "Well it is good that she died in her sleep".  BULL F___ING SHIT!!!

You might as well just shorten that sentence a realize how stupid it sounds.  "Well it is good that she died."  F___ all you peckerheads that think death is a good thing.

Yes we can argue.  How painful would it have been for a 2-3 year illness to result in the death of my wife. 

But what you can't realize is how painful it is to have lived together for 40 years and overnight, the one constant in life is taken away.  And as it is taken away it rips apart every other constant I've known.  You can ask family members - they'll tell you that I'm clinging onto the stupidest items, and I can't tell you why.  The plastic spoon, the NASCAR magnet.  And at the same time I'm trying to jettison so many other things that no longer seem to hold any essence.  Why the spoon?  Why not the dress? I don't know.

There are a thousand questions that run through my mind at night, keep me awake, or wake me up.  Questions that I can't answer.  There is no closure.  I didn't get to tell her how much I loved her.  I didn't (and this is a frigging big one) I didn't get to say goodbye.   I would like to think that there was a good reason we stayed together for 40 years, but that was never a discussion item.  The last night with my wife we talked about how great a day it had been for her as she started two new CCD classes at the church.  She was excited, happy, and as always with her classes, there was a sense of fulfillment.

I wish I would have asked, if she was happy with me.  I wish we would have talked about things we were going to do like the upcoming races.  I wish it would have been so much more of a "WE" moment rather that a liturgy of the days events and a kiss goodnight.  I didn't tell her I loved her that night.  The last time I told her I loved here was in a phone call the day before.

F___ ALL OF YOU THAT THINK IT IS A GOOD THING SHE DIED IN HER SLEEP!!

The other night someone stopped by to see me.   Most of the lights were out, I was sitting on the back porch (had a coat on), listening to music, a cigar(really good one) in one hand and a drink in the other (Ameretto - nice).  

 

I was asked if I was OK, and I said yes.   Later in the discussion about Christmas, shopping, etc i was asked if I was suicidal.  I said no.

 

Normally, the conversation would not bother me, but she is the second person in 4 days to ask me the exact same Question.  I'm probaly reading waaaaay too much into these innocent questions, and in fact they are probably just questions that show people care.  When I didn't show up at a routine meeting during the week, someone called to make sure I was OK.  

 

Yes December really, really sucks for me.  Curtiss would have been 62 on Monday.  My sister would have been 63 at the end of this month, and I have a birthday and etc. etc. And January's burial of my wife is just around the corner.   I'm pretty sure you catch my drift that there are waaaay toooo many reasons to be unhappy or at least in deep contemplation about life in general. 

 

For the record.  I'm not suicidal,  I'm too much of a chicken for that, and the mess oh pluuueeezzz.  There are times I am depressed.  Last Friday I went to Mikes I didn't make it through dinner because my sorrow overwhelmed me.   It struck me that it was the first time I had ever been to Mikes without Mary. I had no warning that I was going to have a grief attack.  Lately I've been able see these coming, but not this time.

 

Back to Wednesday.  On Wednesday I was really just mellow.   I can now understand that there is a very fine line between mellow and depressed, and on the outside looking in they probably look the same.   And when I'm mellow I can get depressed.  I was just mellow wed.

 

It is hard to find one person to discuss all my issues with.   Some are very, very personal and that dictates one audience, and other things I'd rather discuss with someone else.  It would be nice to find one person who I can trust, confide and feel comfortable doing that with them.   Don't know who that might be.   So I'll continue to take separate problems to separate folks.  

 

BOTTOM LINE:   I AM F__KING FINE!   Or at least as good as I think I should be allowed to be.   

 

I've got lots of folks checking on me and taking me to lunch and dinner and letting me talk.  I almost need a social secretary. This weekend is no different.   Christmas parties, dinners and concerts.  A busy time of year.  

 

And Saturday I'll work on the changes in the back yard to help keep Max for escaping from the Stalag.

 

I really am ok

 

SCARS

A very interesting discussion a couple a weeks ago.  Gives me a little different perspective.  What would you call a mark on your physical exterior that has some meaning attached to it?  I've got a few scars.  Chin from baseball, knee from climbing on stuff, shin from biking, hands from knives and throw in a few surgery scars and there are some more that don't seem to have a significant memory attached.  The friend I was discussing this with opined that a tattoo is a mark on the physical exterior that has meaning attached to it.  Interesting point.  All the scars I have that are larger than 2cm have a memory.  The scar came first, the memory second.   Tattoos seem to have a memory first and then the scar.  In my formative years in the Midwest I was taught that sailors got tattoos, and bad girls had tattoos.  And to some extent today I tend to view (right or wrong) tattooed ladies as different.  I'm not as parochial as I use to be, and they don't have the stigma for me that they use to, and I'd like to accept them, but I know deep in my mental processes I still have some reservations - sorry.  I don't want to have the reservations.    I'd be lying to say I have no reservations.

Make it stop, please

As my trip to Homestead to watch NASCAR continues I had a major issue today.   We were watching the cars practice before the late afternoon race.  Lots of noise, a beer, some food and lots of sun.  I'm sitting with my sister-in-law and her husband.

I started feeling weird and nervous.   If I knew what schizophrenia was, I imagined I had it today.   I excused myslef and told them I was just going to go for a walk for awhile and get my head together.   I probably walked for the better part of an hour then I started feeling a crushing sorrow.   Maybe because I'm doing something I only did with my Wife and family, maybe there was a sound or odor, perfume but I was absolutely overwhelmed by sorrow.  I couldn't breath I couldn't organize my thoughts.  I headed back into the grandstands and I couldn't find my lifeline, my sister-in-law.   I was on the verge of bursting into tears while being stressed by the whole situation.   I finally found my sister-in-law and hand signaled that I needed her to come an talk to me instantly, and she did.

She walked with me, held my hand as I broke down.  She saved me from being alone in a crisis. I couldn't breath, couldn't talk, barely walk and was not in control.

I have been shot at with guns, motars and missiles.  I've been in car accidents, fights, near plane wrecks, riots and outside during killer blizzards.  I cannot begin to write about all the things that should have, and in some cases, hurt me physically and maybe psychologically.   And I sit here today proud that I survived.  

I'm not doing this widow thing very well, survival is the only option, I'm not sure what I should be doing.

Cigars and Life

It is November.  My wife has been dead for 2 months and it will be about 2 more months before she will be buried at Arlington National Cemetery with full military honors, by the USAF Honor Guard.  Yes there is a waiting list for Arlington.  I'm in Florida with my wife's sister and her husband.  (i'm not sure how to refer to them.  She was my sister-in-law for 40 years.   I guess I'll keep her as my sister-in-law regardless).  I'm in Florida because My wife had arranged this trip back in February.   This is the annual trip to Homstead, Florida for the very last race of the NASCAR season.   Mary would arrange this trip every year along with a trip to Dover.   The four of us would travel, eat, drink, watch races and generally we would live life.   

Mary's not here this trip.  My wife's sister and husband get to put up with me and entertain me, or humor me or just listen to me.  Expedia screwed up our reservations and that put some added stress on me yesterday, but I didn't throw the phone and I didn't use any profanity to the Expedia folks.   Never again with Expedia.  

So,  last night I asked Mike if he ever smoked a cigar.  He said yes.  The last cigar I remember was in 1973, in Thailand where I was a security policeman.  When I was in Vietnam I started smoking because there were cigarettes in the C-rations.  I kept it up for over 20 years.   In 1973, I'd go a pick up some Hava Tampa's and take them out when I was the north perimeter patrol (jeep).  So i've never smoked a real cigar.

Last night we headed over to a local liquor store, bought some expensive cigars in glass tubes, got some Grand Marnier, got a cigar cutter and then we went back to the veranda at the hotel and lit up and drank up.   We had discussions that for some reason we have never had before.  We told war stories, passed around compliments, renewed our friendship.   I decided I needed my picture taken with a cigar and here I am.   

In what currently seems like a dessert of sorrow, for a while I found an oasis.

Some fun for my dog

Last Saturday My son and his wife took my dog to a special day at our local veterinary. The veterinary had special treats (kind of Halloween thing), scarves etc.   As a special treat they had a Psychic for the dogs.   As the psychic looked at my dog he said my dog was saying "Maggie".  I have no idea what that could be unless my wife changed her name.   My son and his wife said it was lots of fun and the psychic was at least entertaining.  What do you say about a pet psychic?  Nothing - she already knows.

Reality Check

I made an incorrect statement recently. I said I had lostmy wife. My wife didn't get lost or she didn't pass, she died. As I progress through my grief, with help, I'm finding out, hopefully, how to cope. It has been pointed out that I need to acknowledge the death of my wife, not just look at it as a passing, like you drive past a church or a circus, and she didn't get lost, and I didn't lose her. This death can't be passsed, death has to be acknowledged and dealth with. I was not prepared for how hard it was to announce to myself that my wife died. It is even harder to write about it and the act of telling other people has been crushing.

I still feel so disorganized and that I'm playing catchup for the day-to-day. It is tiring and at times a struggle. I didn't pay bills before, I've never done on-line banking and I have other items that are extra to a day-to-day effort. I have insurance claims, credit cards and the like that need to be closed, open, paid off, etc. Mary was the prime on a couple of cards and I was on others. If she was prime, when the Social Security Administration notified the credit reporters of Mary's death, the credit card companies suspended the accounts. So I've been closing, opening and just making decisions.


Enough for now I need some me/private time.

Significant Emotional Event

I have lost my mate of 40+ years. It has only been 3 weeks but it seems like months or years. Should it be such a change? The past two days have been miserable/terrible. The memories, thoughts, the self doubt is almost overwhelming. I decided I'd better write to see it that helps.

Cleaning the house is fairly painful. The simple task of removing a magnet from the refrigerator brings forth a flood of unmanly tears and a near crushing sorrow. I cannot predict what will trigger one of these events. And I don't get a lot of warning.

Work is not a bad place to be, but at times thoughts creep into my mind of things I haven't worried about or that I should worry about. Then I get distracted. The work manager is very accomodating and they have made allowances for my distractions. I don't know how long this generosity will exist.

I have to be very careful about what songs I let my phone play when I'm driving. I can't let it shuffle. I found out the hard way when the Beach Boys started playing on the way home. I had to pull over.

It is very difficult to go to my wife's church. The first time I went, to "help" with the arrangements, I felt like I was being crushed and it was next to impossible to breath. I was finally able to walk into the eye of the hurricane (her CCD classroom) and I didn't die. I did succumb. I've been back a few times trying to adapt, or relate, or feel or something. I'm getting tougher. I'd hate to accept any other reason for not having an immense amount of sorrow.

Enough with the misery, how about a 1/2 misery story.

Change - One of the new changes that is most challenging, is finding the car. I always let my wife drive. She really disliked the way I drove, I could get lost easily, and I didn't mind the way she drove. When we finished shopping I would just walk beside her and we would end up at the car. Last week I had to run to the grocery store (another new task) and when I came out of the store I realized I did not know where I had left my car. On your electronic key fobs there is an alarm button. It has much greater range then the lock and unlock button. I'm not sure what my next steps are or where they will take me. I do think it will be a positive event.

Hoopla

hoop·la   [hoop-lah] noun Informal . 1.bustling excitement or activity; commotion; hullabaloo; to-do. 2.sensational publicity; ballyhoo. 3.speech or writing intended to mislead or to obscure an issue. There has been an amount of hoopla about a place known as the Melting Pot. My wife and I gather with two other couples on a regular basis. Each time one of the couples has the responsibility of finding a place for dinner, working the schedules and making the reservations. We've been to some really nice places. Regardless of where we go we always have a good time. Back to hoopla. The melting pot is a hat and not many cattle. The food is nice, okay, but I don't think that you get bang for the buck. It's a fondue place. The appetizers were really good, the deserts were good. The main course, well it was ok. I don't expect anyone who reads this to be going there, but be forwarned. It is a unique experience, the service was some of the best I've ever had.