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