A Good Week

I have an internal score keeping system for defining "A good week".   It is the number of times I cry.  The fewer times I cry, the better the week.   Now to be honest, I can read some of my previous posts and I'll cry so I throw those out.   Those are known moments that I can recognize and I am willing to deal with them on an individual basis.   The ones I count are the ones I don't expect.  When I'm doing something around the house is the most common time for a cry that I didn't expect. Sometimes it is music.   It definitely isn't when I'm cooking.  Nothing I've cooked so far matches what Mary did and a large part of that is because she did it and I just enjoyed it. 

Lets Eat - As an uneducated single person your options are most commonly McDonalds, Chik-Fil-A, etc.   If you do something like Let's Dish you need to be ready to feed at least 2 people but usually 4 or more.  You can go to the frozen food section of a grocery store and get individual frozen meals.   Or you can enroll in one of those programs like Weight Watchers.  They cater to the single diner.  If you go out to a nice dinner place you can stare at your reflection in the wine glass and watch other folks stare at you, or so it seems.  Recently Whole Foods has been getting my lunchtime business because they have a great buffet and a good selection of prepared foods.  Can't get a glass of wine until after 6 PM.   Even though they are Whole Foods, they aren't that low on the caloric content.   I have to pay attention.  This is just kind of a whine, no real soul searching here.   I like to eat when I'm hungry.   I'm not fond of frozen meals or left overs.

Still trying to plan my future.   I'm pretty sure I'll figure it out, just not real soon.   The new fence to keep Houdini in will be installed this weekend.   It has rails and spikes closer together, and it is just a little bit bigger - I needed more square pooperage to handle my Son/Daughter-in-laws two hounds plus mine.   My dog is doing better.  He spends more time around me and he doesn't lay by the front door so much at night.   He has a walker visit him 3 times a week, I may need to increase that just to make his day better. 

Wine of the month Cote' du Rhone.  Same cigars and now some Amaretto.  I'm scoring this week as making progress. 

Pride

Today, the USAF made me proud.  The Arlington National Cemetery staff did an outstanding job organizing Mary's internment (There were 3 separate ceremonies beginning at 1100).  We were organized  and led to the transition point where Mary's casket was removed from the hearse by a sharp bunch of USAF Airmen (men and women) and placed on the Caisson.  Then the USAF Band struck up The USAF Hymn.  The Band, at a glance, had 30 members.  There was a color guard of 4, there was a ceremonial firing squad of 8, and squadron of 24 armed airmen.  They demonstrated all the professionalism and decorum appropriate and I can only hope that in all the years I worked much smaller ceremonies as a color guard, that I looked half as good and acted half as professional.  The NCOIC presented me with the flag and faithfully repeated the "On behalf the President, Sec Def, etc and a grateful nation...".  I honestly only heard the first four words.  When I thought I was almost done a young hostess from the Arlington Cemetery Family presented me a personal note from the Chief of Staff of the USAF, Mike Walsh and his wife Betty.  Even if it is proforma, it sincerely touched me that there is a process for remembering and recognizing.  Mary now lies in section 54, not far from the visitors center and as you stand by her grave you can see the USAF Memorial and if you turn a little you can see the Pentagon, then the Washington Monument.   Section 54 is very nice.  It is going to take another 4-5 months for the headstone to be made, delivered and installed.  When it is installed you'll be able to go online and look at it, or so they said.  Yes TAPS still makes me cry - have you ever heard the unofficial words?  Day is done, gone the sun, From the hills, from the lake, From the skies. All is well, safely rest, God is nigh.  Yes, the USAF made be proud to have been a member and served. 

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more

It began four months ago, and it is still over 15 hours before something happens.   I've had the flu for a week and it has ruined my appetite, and made me feel like shit for hours on end.  Yesterday I was hungry and actually ate supper (dinner to you east coasters).  Today my appetite has once again left and I thought it might be the flu hanging on, now I know so much better.  I can feel the stress and I recognize all the symptoms from other events.  Make it stop please.  

Tomorrow is going to be impossible and snow is forecast, which isn't a bad thing.   Mary liked walking in the fresh falling snow listening to the crunch and being amazed at the completeness of the quiet and the light show as the flakes danced in the beams of street lights.   My son and I had a nice talk today.   We discussed our expectations from tomorrow's internment at Arlington National Cemetry.  

My son has no expectations.   I have hopes and my expectations are limited to my desire to be able to grab ahold of my emotions and as of right this second I know that is a lost cause.   

I'm not sure about soooo many things.  Even after the ceremony, what next.  I haven't been drunk in probably 15 or more years.  I would love to get silly drunk tonight and miss tomorrow's event.   Not really, I want Mary to receive all the honors she deserves, and I want to be there, but I don't   I hope, I just hope I can make it through tomorrow, tonight would be nice, but tomorrow for sure.

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.