I really can't pick how it is that I actually feel... definitely lacking motivation to do much of anything - really had to make myself clean a Unit the other day (glad that I did in the end) and then yesterday I swept the leaves around the pool (also had to make myself do it - didn't get to it until mid-day) but otherwise, the only things that I seem to 'want' to do is sit on the sofa and stare out at the ocean. Having said that, I don't feel any strong emotions of any sort - so, that's why I'm thinking this must be what numb is.
It is strange though - I can have a nice chat with someone (like Rhonda) and enjoy the conversation, even have a bit of a laugh, or get a bit teary (if we're talking about you) but when I'm on my own there isn't really any feeling of emotion - I'm just here. I think about you a lot, and I think about 'what next' although those thoughts tend to be a bit fuzzy and I certainly haven't made any definite plans beyond going to the States in October (paid for the tickets yesterday) and going back to work in the new year. Although I will (hopefully Jamie won't have a problem giving me another few months sick leave) have to go back for the last month or so of this term which will give me time to clean out my office, go through all the computer files and be working before the end of the school year which will mean that I'll get (or should get anyway) my holiday pay.
I went to dinner with Rhonda last night, to the new Thai place - it was quite nice. I think you would have liked it, good food (different from the other place, but still nice) and cheaper. $25 each for entrees, mains and dessert. I still get this sensation in my head, well it's though my body really, that you're waiting for me to come home... and then I realise, no, you're not. I'm on my own and no one really (well, I keep in touch with the kids - though they were both at the Show yesterday) is expecting me home at any particular time. Weird.
Night times are a bit odd feeling, watching TV on my own, going to bed and being in bed on my own, sleep and waking up on my own... all odd. I'm okay though... it's just so different.
I was speaking with Rhonda yesterday - spent a bit of time together, two walks on the beach, coffee after our morning walk and then wine after our afternoon walk and then dinner - about my thoughts about being on my own. I moved out of my Dad's house on Palai Street in Hilo when I was 15 or 16 (can't exactly remember, guess I could work it out if I went back and looked at my Uni transcripts) because he was moving back to Puna and I had been accepted into the Community College and wanted to stay in Hilo. I moved into a shared house situation on Kilauea St, rode my bike to school and to work (I was working at the restaurant that later became Lehua's) and that was going really well for me. I met Joe when I was 16, and it wasn't that much later that we moved in together. We both had separate places initially but we were with each other constantly, and then we moved into his parent's house in Ainaloa, although I can't exactly remember when that was - whether I was 16 or 17 by that point. Anyway, we lived together until we broke up at the end of the year of 1985. We had both graduated from UHH in June of 1985, kept the band going - we were playing pretty regularly then - but I guess I was growing up and needed something new. It's not that Joe was a bad person, but I needed a change... so we split, I think it was in November.
We kept the band together and continued practicing and playing gigs - it was going okay and we had both been out with other people but nothing very serious for either one of us. And then you asked my out... March 16th was our first date... and wasn't I smitten! I wasn't looking for another serious or long-term relationship, well, I certainly don't remember thinking that at all but you were amazing and really I had always been attracted to you (you know the kind of increased heartbeat, tingling sensations, can't help smiling kinda of attraction every time I saw you - even if it was from a distance) so I always thought it was meant to be - I couldn't have stopped that attraction even if I wanted to. After an unsuccessful move to San Francisco with the band, I moved back to Hawaii and in with you in the summer of 1986 - and we were together ever since.
So, really, I haven't spent that much time on my own as an independent woman. While of course I still have the kids, I'm feeling that this is now my time to 'do it on my own' and I feel okay about that. I suppose at sometime down the track there'll be another long-term man in my life, and I expect in the nearer future (but not to near) I'll need a lover, or at least the occasional fling as I do still like, enjoy and want to have sex, but I'm feeling really strongly (oh, there's a feeling/emotion) that I want to do things on my own for a while. I want to make this place work and be successful (so that I can sell it for a good price in a few years), I want to continue my own career (although I haven't quite figured out in what direction just yet - I'll just work back in a school for a year or two until that becomes a bit clearer in my head) and I want to get both kids off successfully pursuing their particular interests and dreams.
I want to be able to honour our lives together and your live and influence on my life through continuing to live a good life and make good decisions - one's that we would have made together... and take it from there... not sure what it's all going to look like but I just can't see myself sitting here and pining away. That's just not the kind of person I am, and I don't think you'd want me to do that.
Know that I miss you, and that I didn't choose to take this path - while I might have wondered what it would have been like on my own, I never really wanted to do it that way - but now that I'm on it, I feel like (oh, another feeling) that I have to do it well and make the most of whatever opportunities present themselves, which means that I also need to be open to those opportunities.
The weather has finally gotten a bit nice - not raining at least. Still a bit overcast with sun splashes through-out the day, but warm.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
The last weeks...
I feel like I should write about what things were like in those last weeks of your life - really it was quite surreal then too, and I feel like I need to write/discuss it while the details (what details I have as things are kinda fuzzy too) are still in my head.
I think I knew you were going to die, probably about 6 weeks before - it came to me during my first session with the counselor, but I guess I also choose not to acknowledge or accept it...
I think I knew you were going to die, probably about 6 weeks before - it came to me during my first session with the counselor, but I guess I also choose not to acknowledge or accept it...
What to do?
I'm sitting on the sofa - your spot - on my own in the house and wondering what I should do now? There's plenty of things that I could be doing - continue cleaning the house, continue tidying our closet, make the bed, clean Unit 3, sweep the leaves from the walkways around the place, input the year's invoices for taxes, respond to the numerous condolence emails that people have sent... - but I'm finding it difficult to motivate myself to do any of those things. At the moment anyway, perhaps after writing for a bit I'll find something to do which happens to take my interest at that moment - I'm leaning towards sweeping the leaves...
It continues to hit me that you're not coming back... I suppose after nearly 25 years together, it's understandable that I'm having a hard time adjusting to the fact that you're not available to check with, ask questions of, chat to, make decisions with, discuss things... I guess this blog is a bit of a substitute for that, but certainly no replacement.
I do wonder 'where' you - is it you - are at now? While we've heard the stories of those who have had near-death experiences, and the Tibetan Book of Living & Dying has a pretty definite idea (and description) of what they believe happens in the afterdeath (before rebirth), I just wonder where you are now? I hope it's peaceful, and blissful, and somehow fulfilling and that it's all okay. Or perhaps it really is nothingness... but that's very hard for those of us still living to really get our heads around - it just seems like you should still be 'out there' somewhere. I wonder if you are looking down (?) on us... if you have feelings, sensations, worries & concerns... or maybe once you pass over you are able to get that sense that everything does really work out.
That's something I'm having a bit of difficulty getting my head around - that concept that "everything works out in the end" or "everything happens for a reason, and it all works out". I've always felt strongly about that, and have found that it is a sentiment that makes it much easier to 'go with the flow' when things are difficult or frustrating, so I want to believe that this is just another difficult/challenging time which that saying applies to as well. But.... I just don't understand how you dying at 59, leaving me, leaving the kids (I know it wasn't your choice - and you wouldn't have gone if it was up to you) but how does that fit into the idea that 'it all works out in the end' or that 'things have a way of working out'. I'm just not able to really get my head around that one.
I am beginning to wonder what life will be like without you though - and I guess if I am honest I have wondered that before (obviously never acted upon it) but there have certainly been times when we've had difficult points in our relationship that I've wondered. But now - here it is. I'm essentially (still have the kids to care for) on my own... I'm not really sure what to do with that thought either.
I've decided (not to make any decisions - sounds funny - I've decided not to do any deciding) - but in all seriousness, I've decided not to make any 'big' decisions (not entirely sure what 'big' is - I suppose trying to sell Taihoa is the most obvious) for the next year. I see this year coming up as a 'Year of firsts' - so many things to do, to think of, to act upon, without you to do it with. Not just events like birthdays (really not sure how I'm going to handle your birthday/Christmas - guess I'll think about that more when it comes around), anniversaries, Megan's Formal next year... but also just the 'everyday' of live and work - taxes, bank accounts, rentals, Units, website, travel, back to work, do I go back to study?, what do I want to do next? It's just that all of our future plans were together - it's different now - and I guess we didn't really have a 'next step' plan so now it's up to me - what will I do? I'm not frightened - a bit apprehensive if anything... and perhaps it's just not anything to think about, just let it happens as it does - be open to the possibilities. It's just you know how I like to think things through and about all the possibilities - I'm sure I probably spend too much 'time in my head'.
I keep thinking about our first and last kisses - they were both so beautiful, so memorable, so tender, and so different. Our first kiss (well kisses - but I definitely remember the first on) was in the car (orange Honda hatchback) parked at Reed's Bay after our first dinner together at Harrington's Restaurant (there were many more to come - both in Hilo and in Kawaihae). It was the most amazing kiss - tender but passionate - I felt it through-out my whole body - you had me then and there! I remember wanting you so badly - wanting to make love with you, to keep kissing, to feel your body, all of your body - god, I'm getting turned on just thinking about it! Damn you were hot!
And the last time you kissed me (because I kissed you more after that) I was helping you to sit up - and you were so weak at that point that you were having a hard time sitting up straight. Sometimes you could, but other times you would slump over. I was leaning across you - don't remember what I was doing exactly, maybe grabbing or adjusting a pillow, and you leaned over and kissed me, twice. and it was so tender and soft and sweet and beautiful - so different from the first one but so full of love.
I love you so much - I always have. Even when I was angry with you or frustrated and even all those times when I did wonder what life would be like on my own.
I miss you.
It continues to hit me that you're not coming back... I suppose after nearly 25 years together, it's understandable that I'm having a hard time adjusting to the fact that you're not available to check with, ask questions of, chat to, make decisions with, discuss things... I guess this blog is a bit of a substitute for that, but certainly no replacement.
I do wonder 'where' you - is it you - are at now? While we've heard the stories of those who have had near-death experiences, and the Tibetan Book of Living & Dying has a pretty definite idea (and description) of what they believe happens in the afterdeath (before rebirth), I just wonder where you are now? I hope it's peaceful, and blissful, and somehow fulfilling and that it's all okay. Or perhaps it really is nothingness... but that's very hard for those of us still living to really get our heads around - it just seems like you should still be 'out there' somewhere. I wonder if you are looking down (?) on us... if you have feelings, sensations, worries & concerns... or maybe once you pass over you are able to get that sense that everything does really work out.
That's something I'm having a bit of difficulty getting my head around - that concept that "everything works out in the end" or "everything happens for a reason, and it all works out". I've always felt strongly about that, and have found that it is a sentiment that makes it much easier to 'go with the flow' when things are difficult or frustrating, so I want to believe that this is just another difficult/challenging time which that saying applies to as well. But.... I just don't understand how you dying at 59, leaving me, leaving the kids (I know it wasn't your choice - and you wouldn't have gone if it was up to you) but how does that fit into the idea that 'it all works out in the end' or that 'things have a way of working out'. I'm just not able to really get my head around that one.
I am beginning to wonder what life will be like without you though - and I guess if I am honest I have wondered that before (obviously never acted upon it) but there have certainly been times when we've had difficult points in our relationship that I've wondered. But now - here it is. I'm essentially (still have the kids to care for) on my own... I'm not really sure what to do with that thought either.
I've decided (not to make any decisions - sounds funny - I've decided not to do any deciding) - but in all seriousness, I've decided not to make any 'big' decisions (not entirely sure what 'big' is - I suppose trying to sell Taihoa is the most obvious) for the next year. I see this year coming up as a 'Year of firsts' - so many things to do, to think of, to act upon, without you to do it with. Not just events like birthdays (really not sure how I'm going to handle your birthday/Christmas - guess I'll think about that more when it comes around), anniversaries, Megan's Formal next year... but also just the 'everyday' of live and work - taxes, bank accounts, rentals, Units, website, travel, back to work, do I go back to study?, what do I want to do next? It's just that all of our future plans were together - it's different now - and I guess we didn't really have a 'next step' plan so now it's up to me - what will I do? I'm not frightened - a bit apprehensive if anything... and perhaps it's just not anything to think about, just let it happens as it does - be open to the possibilities. It's just you know how I like to think things through and about all the possibilities - I'm sure I probably spend too much 'time in my head'.
I keep thinking about our first and last kisses - they were both so beautiful, so memorable, so tender, and so different. Our first kiss (well kisses - but I definitely remember the first on) was in the car (orange Honda hatchback) parked at Reed's Bay after our first dinner together at Harrington's Restaurant (there were many more to come - both in Hilo and in Kawaihae). It was the most amazing kiss - tender but passionate - I felt it through-out my whole body - you had me then and there! I remember wanting you so badly - wanting to make love with you, to keep kissing, to feel your body, all of your body - god, I'm getting turned on just thinking about it! Damn you were hot!
And the last time you kissed me (because I kissed you more after that) I was helping you to sit up - and you were so weak at that point that you were having a hard time sitting up straight. Sometimes you could, but other times you would slump over. I was leaning across you - don't remember what I was doing exactly, maybe grabbing or adjusting a pillow, and you leaned over and kissed me, twice. and it was so tender and soft and sweet and beautiful - so different from the first one but so full of love.
I love you so much - I always have. Even when I was angry with you or frustrated and even all those times when I did wonder what life would be like on my own.
I miss you.
Yesterday was low
It was a week ago yesterday that you left us... and it's been a very odd 7 days. A bizarre mixture of sadness and loss, relief, exhaustion, dazed and confused, fuzzy thinking, floating, numbness, limbo, uncertainty, concern, worry... but interestingly today I felt a bit clearer, perhaps just a bit more accepting of our current reality. I don't know why exactly - is it because it's been a week? Because the sun came out a bit today? Because the kids and I decided it would be a good day to go to Cairns, do some errands and a bit of shopping, and just get out of the house? I don't know...
I thought about you a lot today - while driving, while shopping, while talking with the kids - I'm pretty sure that the full impact of your passing has not hit me yet. I know that I am still 'floating' through the day... but I guess I am beginning to make sense of the fact that you're not coming back. Or maybe it's just today and I'll go back to feeling lost again tomorrow.
Another thing about the last week that's made it all a bit surreal, and perhaps has also helped to ease the complete loss of you is the number of people that have stopped by on a daily basis, the flower deliveries (pretty much every day), the cards, and the emails, and the food (everyday a meal from one of the staff members at school - it's been so fantastic). While there's also plenty of quiet time, all of these things have been welcome distractions and somehow cushion your absence. I know (and have discussed this with several people) that in a month's time or so, when the visitors, flowers, food, cards, and emails have stopped that it will all hit me. I miss you now but I expect that I'll really feel your absence then.
Both from missing your presence, your hugs, sleeping (and making love) with you but also around this place... there are sooo many things that need to be kept on top of and done on a regular (and sometimes not so regular) basis. I had to get a replacement lock today for the shed as the plastic plate on the locking mechanism just came apart. And of course, they don't have just a replacement part, I had to get the whole locking mechanism because they no longer make the plastic ones (I guess they realised that they were a bit worthless because they so easily fall apart). Oh well... at least I got them to give me a trade price. Tomorrow Ethan & I will give it a go putting it back on again. I know I could get someone to do it but I feel like I need to try to do it myself (with Ethan's help of course) as these things have now become my complete responsibility.
Ethan had a bit of a prang - Toyota vs fence - I know that you would not have been impressed, I certainly wasn't. I expect that you would have handled it a lot differently than me (or at least a bit differently as I expect you would have gotten quite angry). While I didn't get angry (just annoyed) I did really try to impress upon him that it was completely the result of him not thinking, moving too fast, and not taking the first feeling of car touching fence seriously. While it's all fixable - and we found a replacement fence board in the shed - he will have to get the car fixed at a panel beaters (who knows what that's going to cost) as the paint has been scratched off to bare metal. It's a good little car and I want it to last for as long as we can make it, so it's got to be repaired and he'll have to pay for it entirely.
It's hard though because I know that none of us are thinking/working at 100% - I certainly know that I'm not thinking straight. I really have to think things through, and double check (especially my emails and my maths) to make sure that I am doing/saying what I had intended to. I'm pretty sure the kids are feeling the same way, they just don't necessarily have the wherewithall to know that's what's happening for them.
Megan made it to camp on Sunday but the camp coordinator called at about 8am yesterday morning to say that Megan needed to come home. I was happy to go out (to Murray Falls) and get her, and understood that being out there was probably hard. She made it through two nights, and it was wet and gray the whole time. The morning that I picked her up was the day of the overnight hike/camp and perhaps that was part of the problem too. But we're all feeling a bit more delicate and vulnerable than usual, and while I would have expected her to carry on under normal circumstances, this past week (and really the past several months) are nothing like normal, really they have been quite extra-ordinary, and I think it was all too much for her. She said that she'd had a feeling in her stomach and a bit of a panic attack when the teacher asked her how she was... but as soon as she heard that I was coming to pick her up she felt better. I know it was the right thing to do.
You know, when I reflect back now I realise really how extra-ordinary the past 7 months of our lives have been and certainly the past 3. The weird thing is how certain I was - really until probably the last 3 weeks of your life - that you would get better. Were we too confident in the Protocel? Should we have tried the Vitamin C regime? Should we have opted to do that first - would it have made a difference? Were we right to keep listening to all the people that said to stay confident, give it at least 4 months, that were able to explain the problems that you were having and the continued deterioration? I have to say, I have been thinking/asking myself those questions all week, and really probably all month but by then it was really too late to make any changes. You know I even ordered (and received) a new bottle of Protocel - I had thought that we weren't going to need it, I guess I knew we had passed the 'point of no return' but I just couldn't bring myself to consciously believe it, or even say it aloud or discuss it with you.
The other side of all that is I keep hearing what my father used to say (and probably still does) - 'when it's your time to go, it's your time to go'... so then I wonder did we get lucky with the time that we did get? Some people (I think it was Gaye actually) have said that we got 3 years more (you know from the first diagnosis) then perhaps we would have (I guess without treatment). But then that makes me think - what would have happened if you had just had the surgery and not had the chemo and radiation? Would your body have been stronger? Better able to heal itself? What if we had moved into the anti-cancer diet and lifestyle sooner? I know - hind-sight is always 20/20
Do you remember saying how you wanted them to put back what they took out? You were talking to me and Jamie, and definitely on the pain meds at that point, but you were talking about your stomach/oesophagus. I know it was hard for you after the first bout and treatment for the cancer, and that your quality of life was really never the same after that.
In looking back, while I know you were here with us which was really good, especially for us.. but if we consider the time involved in surgery, two rounds of chemo and radiation and then the healing time on top of that... and then the down-hill run of the last 7 months - it's been a tough/rough 3 years. And we probably only had 6 to 8 months that we could consider really good. You were really strong though, and you stayed strong and positive, and you just got on with it didn't you - one of your amazing qualities my love and one that I hope I can carry on for you.
It's been really lovely to hear/read all the wonderful memories that people have of you, and all of your qualities that people have mentioned and reminded me about. Greg sent an email and said that the thing he'll remember most is your smile, and how your whole face smiled... you know while I have never actually articulated that thought in my head, I knew exactly what he meant when he said that. And all of your photos are evidence to that...
I love you so much...
I thought about you a lot today - while driving, while shopping, while talking with the kids - I'm pretty sure that the full impact of your passing has not hit me yet. I know that I am still 'floating' through the day... but I guess I am beginning to make sense of the fact that you're not coming back. Or maybe it's just today and I'll go back to feeling lost again tomorrow.
Another thing about the last week that's made it all a bit surreal, and perhaps has also helped to ease the complete loss of you is the number of people that have stopped by on a daily basis, the flower deliveries (pretty much every day), the cards, and the emails, and the food (everyday a meal from one of the staff members at school - it's been so fantastic). While there's also plenty of quiet time, all of these things have been welcome distractions and somehow cushion your absence. I know (and have discussed this with several people) that in a month's time or so, when the visitors, flowers, food, cards, and emails have stopped that it will all hit me. I miss you now but I expect that I'll really feel your absence then.
Both from missing your presence, your hugs, sleeping (and making love) with you but also around this place... there are sooo many things that need to be kept on top of and done on a regular (and sometimes not so regular) basis. I had to get a replacement lock today for the shed as the plastic plate on the locking mechanism just came apart. And of course, they don't have just a replacement part, I had to get the whole locking mechanism because they no longer make the plastic ones (I guess they realised that they were a bit worthless because they so easily fall apart). Oh well... at least I got them to give me a trade price. Tomorrow Ethan & I will give it a go putting it back on again. I know I could get someone to do it but I feel like I need to try to do it myself (with Ethan's help of course) as these things have now become my complete responsibility.
Ethan had a bit of a prang - Toyota vs fence - I know that you would not have been impressed, I certainly wasn't. I expect that you would have handled it a lot differently than me (or at least a bit differently as I expect you would have gotten quite angry). While I didn't get angry (just annoyed) I did really try to impress upon him that it was completely the result of him not thinking, moving too fast, and not taking the first feeling of car touching fence seriously. While it's all fixable - and we found a replacement fence board in the shed - he will have to get the car fixed at a panel beaters (who knows what that's going to cost) as the paint has been scratched off to bare metal. It's a good little car and I want it to last for as long as we can make it, so it's got to be repaired and he'll have to pay for it entirely.
It's hard though because I know that none of us are thinking/working at 100% - I certainly know that I'm not thinking straight. I really have to think things through, and double check (especially my emails and my maths) to make sure that I am doing/saying what I had intended to. I'm pretty sure the kids are feeling the same way, they just don't necessarily have the wherewithall to know that's what's happening for them.
Megan made it to camp on Sunday but the camp coordinator called at about 8am yesterday morning to say that Megan needed to come home. I was happy to go out (to Murray Falls) and get her, and understood that being out there was probably hard. She made it through two nights, and it was wet and gray the whole time. The morning that I picked her up was the day of the overnight hike/camp and perhaps that was part of the problem too. But we're all feeling a bit more delicate and vulnerable than usual, and while I would have expected her to carry on under normal circumstances, this past week (and really the past several months) are nothing like normal, really they have been quite extra-ordinary, and I think it was all too much for her. She said that she'd had a feeling in her stomach and a bit of a panic attack when the teacher asked her how she was... but as soon as she heard that I was coming to pick her up she felt better. I know it was the right thing to do.
You know, when I reflect back now I realise really how extra-ordinary the past 7 months of our lives have been and certainly the past 3. The weird thing is how certain I was - really until probably the last 3 weeks of your life - that you would get better. Were we too confident in the Protocel? Should we have tried the Vitamin C regime? Should we have opted to do that first - would it have made a difference? Were we right to keep listening to all the people that said to stay confident, give it at least 4 months, that were able to explain the problems that you were having and the continued deterioration? I have to say, I have been thinking/asking myself those questions all week, and really probably all month but by then it was really too late to make any changes. You know I even ordered (and received) a new bottle of Protocel - I had thought that we weren't going to need it, I guess I knew we had passed the 'point of no return' but I just couldn't bring myself to consciously believe it, or even say it aloud or discuss it with you.
The other side of all that is I keep hearing what my father used to say (and probably still does) - 'when it's your time to go, it's your time to go'... so then I wonder did we get lucky with the time that we did get? Some people (I think it was Gaye actually) have said that we got 3 years more (you know from the first diagnosis) then perhaps we would have (I guess without treatment). But then that makes me think - what would have happened if you had just had the surgery and not had the chemo and radiation? Would your body have been stronger? Better able to heal itself? What if we had moved into the anti-cancer diet and lifestyle sooner? I know - hind-sight is always 20/20
Do you remember saying how you wanted them to put back what they took out? You were talking to me and Jamie, and definitely on the pain meds at that point, but you were talking about your stomach/oesophagus. I know it was hard for you after the first bout and treatment for the cancer, and that your quality of life was really never the same after that.
In looking back, while I know you were here with us which was really good, especially for us.. but if we consider the time involved in surgery, two rounds of chemo and radiation and then the healing time on top of that... and then the down-hill run of the last 7 months - it's been a tough/rough 3 years. And we probably only had 6 to 8 months that we could consider really good. You were really strong though, and you stayed strong and positive, and you just got on with it didn't you - one of your amazing qualities my love and one that I hope I can carry on for you.
It's been really lovely to hear/read all the wonderful memories that people have of you, and all of your qualities that people have mentioned and reminded me about. Greg sent an email and said that the thing he'll remember most is your smile, and how your whole face smiled... you know while I have never actually articulated that thought in my head, I knew exactly what he meant when he said that. And all of your photos are evidence to that...
I love you so much...
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Almost a week since you've gone
I spoke with your mother this morning, and had a bit of a cry. Well, I cry all the time... but not ALL the time. I am able to function (although not at 100% - I managed to take the wrong booking sheet down when yesterday's guests checked in, tried to charge them way over the amount that they actually were due, and then couldn't even work out the difference when he brought it to my attention - pretty bad!).
Your mother reminded me about all the wonderful years that we've had together and to remember (and be thankful) for those... it was a good reminder for me, and is a way to help stop thinking about all the things that we won't get to do together or all the future moments that you won't be here for.
Rhonda made me take a walk on the beach today - the weather has been so grey and windy and wet that I haven't really wanted to go out to the beach, and really I haven't wanted to leave the house. Not sure why really, just haven't wanted to go - unless I had to, like when I took Megan into town to meet the bus for camp. Anyway, the walk was really good - it felt good to be outside and on the beach, and it didn't rain - in fact the sun was almost shining for a little while - and the ocean air felt good. Maybe you were the bit of sunshine that I felt.
Celi emailed and said that often in the first few weeks after death, you are still quite close and a bit clarvioyant - she said to keep an eye out for signs. I'm not sure that I've really noticed any - I try to feel you but at the same time I know you have a journey to make so I don't want to 'keep' you here - but I guess I don't know what to look for.
I feel like I wander or float through the day, and even through the night - I sleep but I wake up a lot and then I go back to sleep. I know that you're not coming back but it does still feel like you are just away for awhile and will be back later - it's a funny sensation. And today when I was walking on the beach, I couldn't help that feeling/thought in the back of my head that I would get when I would be out, that I needed to get back home again because you'd be expecting me... and then I realised, that I didn't, because you weren't... it was a weird feeling.
It's nearly been a week - early tomorrow morning. The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying says that in afterdeath, especially in the first stages (21 days) the spirit (I guess it's your spirit) will revisit the place of their death. In our bed, on your side, and next to me... I'll be there when you visit in the morning... maybe you'll be able to gently kiss my cheek, or lightly brush through my hair...
The last week has been so surreal - this bizarre mixture of sadness, and loss, and numbness and at the same time there have been so many emails, cards, visits, flowers, food, phone calls from all of our friends, family and workmates. The amount of support and love that we've been receiving is so amazing, and so helpful right now. At the same time a distraction - a good distraction.
The day of your death - John's day I call it now - was so beautiful, so sunny and warm. After the visit to the Funeral Home in Innisfail (that was sort of a strange experience - Megan & Rhonda came with me). I wanted to find a black bracelet - I didn't know exactly what it would look like but I knew that I wanted something black, simple and that I could wear all the time for the next year as a commemoration, symbol, reminder of your passing. I'm not sure what to call it really, perhaps just my version of wearing black for a year... Rhonda called the Wiltshire Gallery to see what they had and while they were checking we went to the jewelery store in the middle of Innisfail, and there it was - a small, woven leather, Pandora bracelet with a silver bead clasp - just perfect. I went to pay for it and then realised that Megan might want one too (for the same reason as me) and she did so I got two of them. Then Rhonda said we really should get one for Ethan too - which made sense - but Megan said we couldn't get Ethan a Pandora because it was too 'girly'. Leave it to Megan to bring that to our attention... So we went into Mellicks at Rhonda's suggestion, and there once again, the perfect thing - a male's bracelet, kinda like a watchband made of silver (probably stainless steel) and a double black line (not sure what it is actually). Ethan loves it but I need to get a few of the brackets removed as it's a bit big.
So... the three of us have our commemorative (I still don't think that's the right word), memorial (perhaps that's a better term) bracelets. Not that we need to be reminded of you or of your death but as a way to keep you close to us for a while... it feels good, I like wearing it (although I do take it off when I take a shower).
I'll miss you for a long time John... I love you.
Your mother reminded me about all the wonderful years that we've had together and to remember (and be thankful) for those... it was a good reminder for me, and is a way to help stop thinking about all the things that we won't get to do together or all the future moments that you won't be here for.
Rhonda made me take a walk on the beach today - the weather has been so grey and windy and wet that I haven't really wanted to go out to the beach, and really I haven't wanted to leave the house. Not sure why really, just haven't wanted to go - unless I had to, like when I took Megan into town to meet the bus for camp. Anyway, the walk was really good - it felt good to be outside and on the beach, and it didn't rain - in fact the sun was almost shining for a little while - and the ocean air felt good. Maybe you were the bit of sunshine that I felt.
Celi emailed and said that often in the first few weeks after death, you are still quite close and a bit clarvioyant - she said to keep an eye out for signs. I'm not sure that I've really noticed any - I try to feel you but at the same time I know you have a journey to make so I don't want to 'keep' you here - but I guess I don't know what to look for.
I feel like I wander or float through the day, and even through the night - I sleep but I wake up a lot and then I go back to sleep. I know that you're not coming back but it does still feel like you are just away for awhile and will be back later - it's a funny sensation. And today when I was walking on the beach, I couldn't help that feeling/thought in the back of my head that I would get when I would be out, that I needed to get back home again because you'd be expecting me... and then I realised, that I didn't, because you weren't... it was a weird feeling.
It's nearly been a week - early tomorrow morning. The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying says that in afterdeath, especially in the first stages (21 days) the spirit (I guess it's your spirit) will revisit the place of their death. In our bed, on your side, and next to me... I'll be there when you visit in the morning... maybe you'll be able to gently kiss my cheek, or lightly brush through my hair...
The last week has been so surreal - this bizarre mixture of sadness, and loss, and numbness and at the same time there have been so many emails, cards, visits, flowers, food, phone calls from all of our friends, family and workmates. The amount of support and love that we've been receiving is so amazing, and so helpful right now. At the same time a distraction - a good distraction.
The day of your death - John's day I call it now - was so beautiful, so sunny and warm. After the visit to the Funeral Home in Innisfail (that was sort of a strange experience - Megan & Rhonda came with me). I wanted to find a black bracelet - I didn't know exactly what it would look like but I knew that I wanted something black, simple and that I could wear all the time for the next year as a commemoration, symbol, reminder of your passing. I'm not sure what to call it really, perhaps just my version of wearing black for a year... Rhonda called the Wiltshire Gallery to see what they had and while they were checking we went to the jewelery store in the middle of Innisfail, and there it was - a small, woven leather, Pandora bracelet with a silver bead clasp - just perfect. I went to pay for it and then realised that Megan might want one too (for the same reason as me) and she did so I got two of them. Then Rhonda said we really should get one for Ethan too - which made sense - but Megan said we couldn't get Ethan a Pandora because it was too 'girly'. Leave it to Megan to bring that to our attention... So we went into Mellicks at Rhonda's suggestion, and there once again, the perfect thing - a male's bracelet, kinda like a watchband made of silver (probably stainless steel) and a double black line (not sure what it is actually). Ethan loves it but I need to get a few of the brackets removed as it's a bit big.
So... the three of us have our commemorative (I still don't think that's the right word), memorial (perhaps that's a better term) bracelets. Not that we need to be reminded of you or of your death but as a way to keep you close to us for a while... it feels good, I like wearing it (although I do take it off when I take a shower).
I'll miss you for a long time John... I love you.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Megan is packing for Year 11 camp... there is so much stuff strewn around, but I guess that's the nature of packing for camp. She's so worried about not being able to 'bush pee', it's kinda funny.
I wish you were here!
I guess I'll feel this way for a long time to come but I just want you to be here. I know you're gone, I know you're not coming back... but I just want you to be here!
It was a quieter day today... Robin & Diana headed back north this morning. As wonderful as they are, and have been, it was time... I needed the quiet time really. There were a couple of visitors today - Pelory brought flowers and Lynda brought pumpkin soup. The freezer is filling up which is fantastic because the thought of cooking just causes my brain to freeze up.
So... we've finished packing Megan's gear - she's certainly not travelling light, but under the circumstances I think that's okay. She's done pretty well actually. We borrowed most of the gear from Joanne again - not sure what we would have done for both Megan's & Ethan's camp if it wasn't for her generosity. Plus Megan borrowed a swag from Colleen and a camp cot from Joanne (which we didn't do for Ethan) which will certainly make sleeping a lot more comfortable.
She's ready to go. I'll take her to Tully in the morning and she's off for 5 days, 4 nights. I think that it'll be a good distraction for her and hopefully an overall positive experience. Adrianna and Paula are both going, which will certainly make a difference for her. While she's definitely apprehensive, I think she's also excited and kinda looking forward to it. Not sure what the weather's going to be like - it's been so gray, windy, wet and kinda cold since you've gone.
It makes the amazingly beautiful, sunny, warm and settled day of your passing so much more special - John's day is what I've been calling the 20th. I knew you would go on a sunny day - or maybe I just needed it to be a sunny day - you know how I hate the gray weather.
I miss you so much... I miss the things that we won't do together in the future... from the big things like holidays away, watching the kids become more independent, choosing our next home, learning to be a couple again as the kids leave home to start their own lives, growing older together... and the small things like watching TV together, going out to dinner, walking on the beach, riding bikes in the mornings, talking about things - important and mundane...
I wish you were here!
I guess I'll feel this way for a long time to come but I just want you to be here. I know you're gone, I know you're not coming back... but I just want you to be here!
It was a quieter day today... Robin & Diana headed back north this morning. As wonderful as they are, and have been, it was time... I needed the quiet time really. There were a couple of visitors today - Pelory brought flowers and Lynda brought pumpkin soup. The freezer is filling up which is fantastic because the thought of cooking just causes my brain to freeze up.
So... we've finished packing Megan's gear - she's certainly not travelling light, but under the circumstances I think that's okay. She's done pretty well actually. We borrowed most of the gear from Joanne again - not sure what we would have done for both Megan's & Ethan's camp if it wasn't for her generosity. Plus Megan borrowed a swag from Colleen and a camp cot from Joanne (which we didn't do for Ethan) which will certainly make sleeping a lot more comfortable.
She's ready to go. I'll take her to Tully in the morning and she's off for 5 days, 4 nights. I think that it'll be a good distraction for her and hopefully an overall positive experience. Adrianna and Paula are both going, which will certainly make a difference for her. While she's definitely apprehensive, I think she's also excited and kinda looking forward to it. Not sure what the weather's going to be like - it's been so gray, windy, wet and kinda cold since you've gone.
It makes the amazingly beautiful, sunny, warm and settled day of your passing so much more special - John's day is what I've been calling the 20th. I knew you would go on a sunny day - or maybe I just needed it to be a sunny day - you know how I hate the gray weather.
I miss you so much... I miss the things that we won't do together in the future... from the big things like holidays away, watching the kids become more independent, choosing our next home, learning to be a couple again as the kids leave home to start their own lives, growing older together... and the small things like watching TV together, going out to dinner, walking on the beach, riding bikes in the mornings, talking about things - important and mundane...
Thursday, July 22, 2010
I can't believe you're actually gone
Dear John,
You died this Tuesday, 20 July sometime between 5am and 6.23am - I actually think it was probably right before I woke up at 6.23, so I'm thinking that it was about 6.20am. At least that's what I think when I'm lying in bed in the early hours of the morning with my hand on your side of the bed over the spot where your heart would be...
I miss you soooo much.
I'm having a hard time believing that you're actually gone... I mean I know that you're gone, but it almost feels like you're just away for a bit and that you'll be back, or at least call, or even text me that you love me.
Your last night was a bit difficult for me... you were pretty out-of-it by then anyway, as we had increased the morphine and the sedative because you had looked (wincing and grimacing every time I tried to reposition you) like you were in pain, and you were seeming very agitated. So, you were quite far away... I had been trying to change your positions every few hours, but the last time I did so (moved the pillows away from your legs) you really winced and I had been worried about trying to move you any more. You seemed to be resting comfortably when I went to sleep... I woke up off and on through the night. Your breathing was very shallow, and quite loud so I used the yellow ear plugs half way through the night as I really needed to get some sleep. While I had thought you would be leaving that night, I wasn't 100% sure and I knew I needed some rest for coping with the next day... I woke up at 5am and you were still breathing, and I thought, wow, you're still here.
You hung in there for such a long time... much past the time when you said you were ready and we had all said our good-byes. It was really hard to watch you on those final days as you got thinner, and more sallow, and further away.
When I woke up at 5am I watched you for awhile... but I was a bit scared to touch you as I didn't want to cause you any distress so I didn't move your position but I think that I rubbed your upper arm a bit, and I feel back to sleep. When I woke up at 6.23am you were gone.
I watched you for a while because I wasn't quite sure if you were actually gone, it seemed like I could still see the movement of your breath and the beat of your heart, but in the end I think those were actually my breath and heartbeat. I felt for your heartbeat, and you were definitely not there anymore.
I still find it hard to believe that you won't be back with me though... and I wonder where you are...
I hope that you're calm and peaceful, and I try (not sure if I'm doing it right, or well) to do the Tibetan Buddhist Phowa from the Tibetan Book of Living & Dying that I've been reading which is meant to help you go through the 49 days of after death (before rebirth) calmly and positively.
I watched you for awhile... and then I got up, and took a picture of the sun rising. You know the day you died we had a beautiful, sunny, warm day - the most beautiful day that we'd had in weeks. And, it was sunny all day - not just a bit in the morning or afternoon which had happened before when we'd had a bit of sunshine. And, the next day the overcast, gray, windy drizzle came back... it's been here ever since.
Of course, I had to call the Dr as he had to come and officially say that you were dead. I waited until about 7am to call. Jamie arrived about 7.30 - he spent a bit of time, had a look at you and listened to your heart, and spoke with me. I called the Funeral Home and then I called your mom, Pat, and Robin & Diana. I waited until a bit later to call Rhonda as I know she likes her sleep-in's. The day was rather surreal...
I hate saying/feeling it but it was somewhat of a relief that you had gone - the last two weeks of your life were hard, for us and for you. You'd stopped eating over 2 weeks before - Friday, 2 July actually - and your last bites of food were of Chile Rellenos that I had made from the canned chiles that Nahele had brought from Texas. I guess that was a nice last meal - homemade and you always liked Chile Rellenos. But you stopped eating after that because you just weren't able to keep the food down - you could chew (and I know that it tasted good), and you could swallow, but later on that evening it all came back up again in one of your coughing episodes. You continued to drink, small sips from the cup and then from a straw but about a week or so later you started not being able (or it almost seemed like you forgot how to) swallow, and the water would just spill out of your mouth. I found that hard...
Heartbreaking really... as I guess that's when it all became very real that you weren't going to be getting better. I really, really thought that you would - all along - I thought you would wake up one day and say, I'm feeling better and that things would just continue to get better each day from that point.
You continued to get thinner, and more sallow and gaunt looking, and of course the jaundice coloured your skin and eyes. My goal all along had been to keep you as comfortable as possible, and that's what I tried to do. And to make sure that you knew how much I loved you, how much you meant to me - I hope you know / knew that - I hope that it's helped you through your journey.
You died this Tuesday, 20 July sometime between 5am and 6.23am - I actually think it was probably right before I woke up at 6.23, so I'm thinking that it was about 6.20am. At least that's what I think when I'm lying in bed in the early hours of the morning with my hand on your side of the bed over the spot where your heart would be...
I miss you soooo much.
I'm having a hard time believing that you're actually gone... I mean I know that you're gone, but it almost feels like you're just away for a bit and that you'll be back, or at least call, or even text me that you love me.
Your last night was a bit difficult for me... you were pretty out-of-it by then anyway, as we had increased the morphine and the sedative because you had looked (wincing and grimacing every time I tried to reposition you) like you were in pain, and you were seeming very agitated. So, you were quite far away... I had been trying to change your positions every few hours, but the last time I did so (moved the pillows away from your legs) you really winced and I had been worried about trying to move you any more. You seemed to be resting comfortably when I went to sleep... I woke up off and on through the night. Your breathing was very shallow, and quite loud so I used the yellow ear plugs half way through the night as I really needed to get some sleep. While I had thought you would be leaving that night, I wasn't 100% sure and I knew I needed some rest for coping with the next day... I woke up at 5am and you were still breathing, and I thought, wow, you're still here.
You hung in there for such a long time... much past the time when you said you were ready and we had all said our good-byes. It was really hard to watch you on those final days as you got thinner, and more sallow, and further away.
When I woke up at 5am I watched you for awhile... but I was a bit scared to touch you as I didn't want to cause you any distress so I didn't move your position but I think that I rubbed your upper arm a bit, and I feel back to sleep. When I woke up at 6.23am you were gone.
I watched you for a while because I wasn't quite sure if you were actually gone, it seemed like I could still see the movement of your breath and the beat of your heart, but in the end I think those were actually my breath and heartbeat. I felt for your heartbeat, and you were definitely not there anymore.
I still find it hard to believe that you won't be back with me though... and I wonder where you are...
I hope that you're calm and peaceful, and I try (not sure if I'm doing it right, or well) to do the Tibetan Buddhist Phowa from the Tibetan Book of Living & Dying that I've been reading which is meant to help you go through the 49 days of after death (before rebirth) calmly and positively.
I watched you for awhile... and then I got up, and took a picture of the sun rising. You know the day you died we had a beautiful, sunny, warm day - the most beautiful day that we'd had in weeks. And, it was sunny all day - not just a bit in the morning or afternoon which had happened before when we'd had a bit of sunshine. And, the next day the overcast, gray, windy drizzle came back... it's been here ever since.
Of course, I had to call the Dr as he had to come and officially say that you were dead. I waited until about 7am to call. Jamie arrived about 7.30 - he spent a bit of time, had a look at you and listened to your heart, and spoke with me. I called the Funeral Home and then I called your mom, Pat, and Robin & Diana. I waited until a bit later to call Rhonda as I know she likes her sleep-in's. The day was rather surreal...
I hate saying/feeling it but it was somewhat of a relief that you had gone - the last two weeks of your life were hard, for us and for you. You'd stopped eating over 2 weeks before - Friday, 2 July actually - and your last bites of food were of Chile Rellenos that I had made from the canned chiles that Nahele had brought from Texas. I guess that was a nice last meal - homemade and you always liked Chile Rellenos. But you stopped eating after that because you just weren't able to keep the food down - you could chew (and I know that it tasted good), and you could swallow, but later on that evening it all came back up again in one of your coughing episodes. You continued to drink, small sips from the cup and then from a straw but about a week or so later you started not being able (or it almost seemed like you forgot how to) swallow, and the water would just spill out of your mouth. I found that hard...
Heartbreaking really... as I guess that's when it all became very real that you weren't going to be getting better. I really, really thought that you would - all along - I thought you would wake up one day and say, I'm feeling better and that things would just continue to get better each day from that point.
You continued to get thinner, and more sallow and gaunt looking, and of course the jaundice coloured your skin and eyes. My goal all along had been to keep you as comfortable as possible, and that's what I tried to do. And to make sure that you knew how much I loved you, how much you meant to me - I hope you know / knew that - I hope that it's helped you through your journey.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Today is a better day
I found yesterday, well at least the morning, really difficult but today I'm feeling much better. The concerns I had in the morning were addressed and rectified and by yesterday afternoon I was feeling much calmer and relaxed. Then last night I managed to get more sleep (and restful sleep) then I had had in weeks, and that has certainly made a difference in today's state of mind. I have also taken care of some important things that I had been putting off... and that all went much smoother then it could have for which I am very grateful. A wonderful person dropped off a very yummy quiche, which made for an excellent late breakfast and I'm sure a very yummy dinner as well. I am so
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Is this a test?
Sometimes it feels like it's a test... a test for what? by whom? But really, I don't think it is a test, I think that thinking that is some way to try to explain or justify why things happen as they do. Really, I think that it's just life... life is challenging, sometimes moreso then at others but challenging none the less, and perhaps the test (if there is one) is to see how well we can just accept, be, do what needs to be done, and carry on...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)