Always something there to remind me

When people leave us, we hold on to memories because it’s all we have left. I am surrounded by memories. Sometimes, it’s a comfort to me – like seeing his toothbrush next to mine on the bathroom counter. I like keeping it there, for no particular reason except that it makes me feel comfortable, which is hard to do these days. I will come across random belongings here and there – a piece of paper with his work schedule scribbled on it, a book he was reading, even his shoes, which I still trip over by the front door sometimes. Things like this just make me smile – then feel sad, then smile again. All in all, they are happy reminders. I like to think it’s Al just letting me know he’s still around somehow.

Yesterday, I continued my Spring cleaning. I’ve been going through clothes, putting things in bags to donate, and just trying to get rid of stuff in my continuous effort to simplify my life. In a pile next to the couch, I found a throw blanket – cream with small flowers on it. I used to keep it over the back of the loveseat. When Al got sick, especially after his surgeries, that’s where he slept, because he could recline and be comfortable. He would call me if he needed anything, and send me text messages to say goodnight, and thank you. Every night before I went up to bed, I’d get him all set on the love seat, with his meds, his bottle of water, and anything else he may need during the night. And that blanket was always under him. When I saw the psychic last year, she mentioned a blanket with flowers on it, and I didn’t really get it until a few days later. So, it’s kind of important, and apparently after he passed away, I put it in a pile with some other blankets next to the couch, where I found it yesterday. I opened it up and started to cry. Then I saw that I hadn’t washed it, because there were some stains on it, looked like blood, maybe from his feeding tube incision. I immediately started sobbing – one of those hysterical, loud, can’t breathe kind of sobs. I screamed for Ryan, and he ran downstairs. I showed him the blanket. I asked him what I should do with it. He said “keep it”. I asked him if I should wash it and he said “no, keep it just like that”. So, I put it in the basket with the clothes to put away. I’ll just put it in the closet, and I’m sure it’ll make me feel good knowing it’s there.

"The heart hath its own memory, like the mind. And in it are enshrined the precious keepsakes, into which is wrought the giver’s loving thought." ~ H.W. Longfellow

Signs

I pray for signs from Al. I ask for them all the time. Please give me a sign so I know you are out there; please give me a sign to tell me what to do. The only time I’ve felt a sign from him is this past September when I went to see a psychic, and she mentioned several very specific things that she would have had no way of knowing. She said Al was there with us, and I believed her. I left there feeling happy – like he’d spoken to me somehow. You can choose to be a believer in signs, or to be skeptical about such things. I feel that if believing brings you comfort, then you should believe.

Last night, after the long and emotional talk I had with Ryan, we were both really tired. Ryan hadn’t been sleeping well, but he fell asleep in my bed and I didn’t wake him. Today after school, he told me that he dreamt about Al last night. Ryan rarely remembers dreams. He said this one was very vivid: We were at home, and it was a holiday, and we were getting ready to go to my parents’ house. The doorbell rang, and Matthew answered the door. It was Al and he came in and sat on the couch. Ryan hugged him and Al said “I love you”. As Ryan was telling me about the dream, I could see his eyes welling up with tears. I asked him if it made him happy and he said yes. I asked him if he knew why he dreamt about Daddy last night. He said he thinks it was because last night he finally cried. I told him that maybe it was Daddy giving you a sign – that he knew you needed him last night, and that he is with you. Ryan nodded yes as he tried to hold back his tears, but I saw a few of them roll down his cheek.

Thanks for the sign, babe. It couldn’t have come at a better time.

While we are sleeping, angels have conversations with our souls. ~Author Unknown

Tears

I never thought I would encourage one of my children to cry, but tonight that’s just what I did. Ryan had a pretty stressful day. Today was day two of the state English exam. He didn’t sleep well last night. And he told me he is being teased by a kid at school. We had a very long and emotional discussion about teasing – why some kids do it, how hurtful it can be, and how to handle it. I tried my best to give him good advice. I want him to be confident. I want him to love the person that he is, and to not care what some people may think of him. It’s easy for me to say that as an adult, but as a pre-teen, I know how incredibly painful it is to be called names. During our conversation, he asked me what Al's advice would have been. Then he started crying. He tried, as he always does, to hold it in. He doesn’t let me see him cry. I could see he just wanted to sob, so I pulled him close to me and he finally let it out. I don’t know if he was crying because his feelings were hurt, or if he was crying because he missed his dad and he really needed him at this moment. All I know is that my son was finally letting out the tears he’s been holding in for months now. He tries to be strong for me. He rarely mentions Al because when he does, I can see the immediate sadness in his face. I want him to be able talk about his father. I want him to cry if he wants to cry. He has seen me cry countless times in the past year. He usually will ask me why I’m crying. He knows the reason I cry, but he doesn’t understand why I let myself. I try to explain to him how it’s a release and it’s a healthy thing to do. But, I’m a woman and we are just more emotional. It’s not that I *enjoy* crying, but I usually feel better after a good sob session. I’ve gotten to the point where I don’t cry every day, and that’s a big step. Sometimes I’ll get teary, and sometimes when I’m having a particularly bad day, I’ll just let go and just full-out bawl till I can’t breathe. It’s exhausting to let out so much emotion, but that’s what happens if I don’t cry a little every day. But that’s just me. I don’t want any of my kids to be sad. But if they are, I hope they can express it somehow. And I hope they know they can always come to me, and I’ll always have a shoulder for them.

“Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened.” ― Dr. Seuss

In sickness and in health

Today I saw an elderly, grey-haired couple taking a walk. They moved slowly, and she was holding onto his arm as they strolled. It made me miss my grandparents. It also made me realize that I will be growing old without the man I chose to be by my side. When I vowed to love him "til death do us part", I'd never imagined that would mean we would only have 12 years of being husband and wife. When Al got really sick last Spring, and I was helping him get dressed and bathe, and do the things he could no longer do for himself, he would apologize to me. He'd tell me he was sorry that I had to do all of these things for him. I would tell him that someday when we got really old, he'd have to carry me up to bed every night. I knew in my heart at that point that we wouldn't be growing old together - I just wanted him to have some hope. And I didn't want him to be sorry for me doing all of these things for him. I didn't mind at all. Seeing him so fragile was so difficult and painful for me. When we first met and fell in love 16 years ago, he was big and strong. He had big hands and big forearms, and when he put his arms around me, I felt safe. The night I first said "I love you" to him (weeks after he'd said it to me), I cried. I remember him hugging me tightly. I told him that I wanted him to take care of me. And he said he would - forever.

I feel gypped. I didn't get my forever. I didn't get to throw him a big retirement party. He didn't get to buy the boat he always wanted so he could spend his days fishing with the kids. We never got to take that second honeymoon to Aruba we both wanted. We won't get to share in the joy of watching our boys graduate and get married someday. I started mourning these losses once we found out how little time Al had left, and I've accepted the reality of my future without him. But sometimes I will just see or hear something that reminds me of it, and it's overwhelmingly sad for me. I remember when my grandfather died - how devasted my grandmother was. They were married 60 years. I can't imagine how hard it is to lose someone you have been with that long. I guess I will never know.

“Across the years I will walk with you - in deep green forests, on shores of sand and when our time on earth is through, in heaven too, you will have my hand” -
Robert Sexton

Ditto

Tonight when I was getting Matthew and Brandon into their pajamas, we were chatting, as we usually do. Matthew said to me "when I go to sleep I see Daddy. He talks to me". Now, this is not the first time Matthew has expressed to me that he's spoken to Al. He's been saying it since shortly after Al passed away. It's hard to know what's real and what's make believe with three year olds, and Matthew definitely has a creative imagination for telling stories. He will ramble on and on and make it up as he goes. And he's pretty convincing. This story though, my heart wants to believe. I know the chances of one of my children to have the amazing gift of being able to communicate with those who have passed is very small (and for the record, I do believe that there are people who can). It gives me comfort though, when Matthew says these things. Every night, I go to bed and hope that I dream about Al. I think it's only happened 3 or 4 times since June, but I always wake up feeling like I spent time with him. And that's just a good feeling. He's never spoken in my dreams though. Sometimes when it's quiet and I'm trying to sleep, I try to hear his voice in my head, and I can't. That is so upsetting, because I fear I will someday forget the sound of his voice. Every time I walk down to the basement and look at the loveseat where he spent so many nights sleeping after his surgeries, I wish I could just see him sitting there. Even though I know it would scare the crap out of me, I just want to see him. I hope someday I will. If you've seen the movie "Ghost", you'll know what I mean.

When I tuck Matthew into bed every night, I whisper in his ear "if you talk to Daddy tonight, tell him I love him". And he looks at me with that same sweet face Al had, and he says "I will".

How did I get here?

I started this blog two years ago. I was at the worst point (so I thought) of my life. Little did I know where I'd be now. Had I known that Al would only be with me for such a short time... well, I don't know what I'd have done differently, to be honest. I couldn't have loved him more; I couldn't have done more to take care of him... but I would have spent every last second by his side. I try not to life my life "if only", because it'll drive me crazy. I'd like to say my outlook on life has changed - I guess it has, in small ways. I try not to take anything for granted now. I try to appreciate what I have. I try to live for today, and not look ahead, because tomorrow is not guaranteed for any of us. And I hug my kids more - a lot more!

So here I am. Not sure how I got here, and I'm pretty much living in a fog right now. I'd say it's like I'm living in a dream, but it's more like a nightmare. I have been wanting to continue this blog, even if it's just for me to read. A sort of self-therapy. I've got a lot to say, and don't want to burden those closest to me with my ramblings. This blog has been writing itself in my head for six months now, so I finally decided to power up the ole laptop and start punching some keys. I may not have anything too profound to say, and I doubt my words will make an impact on anyone's life, but it's a good outlet for me. So, I'm going to quietly re-launch, with the hope of eventually sharing it with the people who always ask how I'm doing, to which I reply "okay", even when I'm not.

“Enjoy the little things in life, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things.” - Robert Brault

Healing.

Al started chemotherapy this week. I wasn't able to go with him for a few reasons, one of which was Ryan having a half day and parent/teacher conferences. Ideally I would be with him for every session, but it's just not possible. I felt (and still feel) guilty about not being there with him this week, but he wants me to take care of the kids so we don't have to leave them with anyone. He said it went fine, he wasn't uncomfortable or sick during. They did have problems finding a good vein so they may put a port in next week so they don't have to keep sticking him every time. He felt fine yesterday, but then today it hit him. He had a sudden bout of nausea, but took the meds they gave him so it subsided pretty quickly. He feels achy and really tired. I'm sure this is to be expected, especially until his body gets used to the medication. I am having a hard time accepting that this is going on. I was okay with the surgery and relieved when it was over, but it just didn't end there. We have six months of chemo ahead of us, and I don't know how I'm going to handle him being sick all the time - at least I hope it's not all the time. I try to ignore it, and I guess that's the wrong way to deal with it, because he gets upset when I want him to do something and he can't because he doesn't feel well. Today I tried to explain to him that I try to pretend he's not feeling sick, because it's just a reminder to me that he has cancer and I don't want to think about that. It's hard for me to explain my point of view to him, just as I can't fully understand how he is feeling. I try not to complain about how hard this all is on me, because that would be really selfish of me. Just as he is going through this, I am going through it too.

It's hard. I just want our old life back. I don't want him to be sick, and I want us to do all the things we used to do. I guess we will have to take it one week at a time, and hope he tolerates it better as it goes on.