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.