Since You Have Been Gone (6-months)

Dear Babe,

I can't believe that is has been six months since you passed away from Pulmonary Fibrosis.  Honestly, I can't believe that I have survived this long without you.  I constantly miss your touch, laughter, comfort.  I look for you in all things and everywhere I go.  Sometimes, I think I see you in a bird in the garden, a sunset, or the way the light dances across water.  Sometimes, I think I feel you in a warm breeze, or a caress across my hair.  Sometimes, I think I hear you in words that other people speak, in music and in silence. 

I still write to you every morning.  Small messages, or questions that you only know of.  I look for your response throughout the day.  

You always apologized for your perception of me taking care of you while you were sick.  I always told you that this was the easy part, the hard part was going to be living without you.  Everyday there is so much difficulties, trials, yet beauty.  Life is bittersweet.  For moments of loveliness, I wonder why you can't be here.  In moments of hardship, I wonder why you can't be here.  Life, for me was so much easier with you here.  You provided the humor and comfort that only a husband can do.  Memories that only we can share. 

Everyday, I look outside the window and think about all of the things that you have given me.  Your efforts, of course, so much more apparent after you are gone.  You really did try to change my life by simplifying it.  By taking me to a place where nature is supreme and it's beauty is within the land and water.  You knew this is what my soul needed and you worked very hard to give that to me. 

You took me everywhere, so that I may see all of our beautiful country.  Showing the the promise that all places contain.  Of the mystical, rural, isolated, busy, or wondrous places that we have been, you also showed me that the most blessed place is the place we called -home.  I miss sharing that with you.

You probably already know this, but with everything I set out to do, I think of you.  I wonder if I am doing things the right way.  You always did such a good job at anything you set your mind to and you always finished everything you started.  Since you have been gone, our oldest graduated high-school.  The youngest has been such a help as we navigate through our grief together.  He sure misses you!  Oh, I finished the dock.  I know you really wanted to get that done.  I still planted the garden.  As for the river-bank, I have made the choice to let it grow wild, but we still have the path down to the Willow.  I guess, you can see that I am just trying my best.

I haven't felt you as frequently as when you first passed away.  Sometimes, I wonder if that is because my perception is changing or if  you truly are not here as often.  I think it might be a combination of both.  The other night, before sleep, I was wondering this and realized, that in life, you spend so much of it traveling because you enjoyed the sights and experiences, so why should that be any different for you on the other-side?  But, please do not forget to check in, because I will always need you. 

I love you with all my heart!

On Memorial Day, my Husband and I would take the long road out to the town's cemetery and place flowers on his Father's grave.  Somehow, over the years, we made a date of it.  We didn't just buy flowers.  We held hands and entered the store, and purchased soil, a living plant and a perfect planter; in which these flowers would live.  Then, on different times, I had the fortunate (depending on how you looked at it) honor of placing the arrangement under my coat, while holding on to my Hubby's waist as we took the '72 Harley Sportster out, as our primary mode of transportation.  I loved placing flowers on his Dad's grave. 

Sometimes, when the weather wasn't quite right (or later in my marriage -when I knew better) we took the pick-up.  The year, 2010 was like that.  We took the pick-up truck. 

Afterwards, he said to me as he did every year, "Do you want to go for a little ride?"

I nodded, yes, and always welcomed this moment. 

It was time we would drive around and look at old, country-farm houses and play the game, would you live there?  "Yes!  I would live there." 

The fields just turning to a beautiful green....

In the same year about 5 months later, my husband was diagnosed with his illness.  But at that time we just talked in the car without a care in the world about things that sometimes, couples do... 

"I would not want to be buried.  Would you?"  

"No",  He said, "I want to be cremated."  

So, it went on from there.  Discussing all of the things that we so wished.  Not in a very practical manner.  I remember him saying that he wanted his ashes spread everywhere.  He was a truck driver and knew how he felt, keep in mind...

I had to narrow it down.  "What do you mean, everywhere?"

But, still, he had a wide range of area from Texas to Hershey, PA. 

I remember kidding him and saying, "Thanks a lot.  You sure don't want to make that easy on me..."

and he said, "Nawwwwww.  Just sprinkle me off of any, old bridge".    

I can't help but remember that.  Who would have known that within Fall of the same year he would be diagnosed with a terminal illness?  Also, I think about why couldn't he have simpler plans, like myself.  Just sprinkle me into the water off of the Santa Cruz Pier?

Falling Backwards

The other night I had a dream about being in my Husband's truck.  This was one of my most favorite places to be.  He was a long-haul truck driver and together we have had many adventures on the road.  I have always loved the promise of beginning a new trip and everything that the road ahead held for us.

In my dream, I was in the driver's seat behind the wheel. 

(I reality, I never drove his truck, as I simply would not have a clue how to do so.)

 I am backing the truck into a parking spot, when, in my dream I suddenly had a feeling of falling.  From a distance, I could see myself in the truck and it is precariously perched on the tiniest tip of a very tall and steep mountain.  The whole trailer of the truck is hanging off of the mountain.  I am in the truck and trying with all my might to keep the truck on the top of that hill.  But, gravity gives way and soon the truck and I are falling backwards. 

The next thing I know, my son and I step out of the truck into a sunny and sandy location.  It is a little town.  We step into a house which is simple, bright and clean.  It is pretty there. 

I, then, looked at my son and said, "This isn't so bad.  Let's make the best of it."

That is all I remember of my dream.  I wonder if it is subconsciously how I feel after losing my husband to Pulmonary Fibrosis.  Trying to hold on and work so hard to save the things that my Hubby and I built together.  Our house, family, dreams.  Sometimes feeling as though no matter how hard I work for these things, there is a sense of falling backwards.  I also wonder what would happen if I just let that occur.  Would I find myself in a spot that I would say,
"This isn't so bad.  Let's make the best of it?"

Geraniums in the Winter

I love Geraniums. 

I think they are just beautiful and enjoy their blooms all Summer long.  In Fall, before the first sign of frost, I brought my Geranium plant inside.  Yes, I only had one.  But, this one was special.  The reason it was special is because I was able to bring it inside to Winter and it survived seven-years of doing so.  Then, once the warmth of Spring sets in, outside onto my balcony it goes.  There, it usually joins other plants, although if it were the only plant there, that would be fine with me.  The flowers from the blooms are beautiful, 

vibrant and red. 

I suppose that I really loved that plant because it was the only one, that came inside our home for a season.  I imagined that this Geranium beared witness to everything that goes on within our family during the winter time.  It soaked everything up and then, once again, was placed back into the warmth of the Sun, where it glowed and flourished.

Over this last weekend, my eleven-year old son attended a grief camp for kids. 

It was a day-long camp that had been planned weeks before. 
After losing a person that he loved so much, his step-father, I thought this would be a good idea
 -even though, he has been handling it well. 

He carries on- the same, from the heart, dinner-table prayer that his step-father did. 

He washes dishes and cars, the same way his step-dad did. 

He talks about him, cries about him, laughs about him, misses him, 

and does his best to help me out, for him. 

He was there the whole distance to witness how Pulmonary Fibrosis affected him 

and he was there when it was his step-dad's time to go.

My son is a social little-guy.  He loves to spend time with others and enjoys the interaction. 

So, he looked forward to this experience of a grief camp.  We received a letter outlining the day's agenda, and in it, they suggested that we bring a photo of our departed loved one. 
My son chose a photo and on the day of the event, we drove the hour long distance, with my son clutching the picture in the back seat.  Once we arrived, we saw a small parking lot full of cars,
and later, a greeting room full of people.  People just like us; children and family members who have recently lost someone dear.  I did not stay for the camp. 
I wanted my son to feel free to express himself without me hanging around. 

So, I kissed his soft cheek and drove away.

About an hour before the program was ending, I couldn't stay away any longer. 

I went back and entered into a large room, where seated up-front was the group of children. 

Sitting in the rear, where other parents watched, I listened to the host ask the children,

"If you could ask your loved one anything, what would you ask?" 

The children ranged from five-to-fifteen years of age. 

One asked, "Do you know how much I miss you?"

Then, more questions followed.

 "Do you watch over Mom and me?"

"Did it hurt when you died?"

and then,

"Is Heaven beautiful?"

Good thing, they put Kleenex, back there, where I was sitting.

At the end of the program, my son grab a hold of my hand and led me to a table. 

The table-top was filled with laminated photos of our deceased loved-ones, placed into small potted plants. 

During the day, the children had visited a green-house and were able to choose between one, of two-types of plants.  The plants were little sprouts that the kids are to nurture and watch grow,

  all in memory of their loved one. 

Upon leaving, we placed the plant gently into the car.  

As I pulled the car out of the parking lot, I asked him,

"Do you know the name of the plant you chose?" 

 He shook his head, no.

"I chose it because everyone was choosing the other plant and I wanted to be different."  He said.

"Good choice."  I responded, 

"You chose a very lovely plant  -the Geranium." 

As we drove away, I smiled to myself.  My one and only Geranium had died last Fall.

Our family had been so busy in this journey that we had forgotten to bring it in for the Winter.

xoxo

photo 1 via

Are You Kind?

Today, I learned that it was the last day of Random Acts of Kindness Week.  I was at the library, checking out a few books and a young man was trying to exchange a $100 bill for a copy he had made worth 10 cents.  The librarian indicated that she did not have change for him on hand.  I knew I had about 1/4 of-a-pound of miscellaneous change somewhere in the bottom of my purse.  Most assuredly, I knew somewhere within the mix was at least a dime. 

So, I said, "I've got that in my purse."  As I fished out the dime. 

The man was so sweet, acting as though I was forking out a thousand bucks. 

It was no problem, I did have the change in my purse. 

The librarian, told me after the man had left, that it was Random Acts of Kindness Week and that I just did my part. 

She is a beautiful person, who wears a flower behind her ear. 

Very smart, of course- well read, and empathetic person, she is. 

At that very moment, she then announced that she noticed I have been choosing similar choices in books reminding her of a time that she chose the same books. 

She had dealt with the loss of a dear, loved one in the past. 

I just nodded, in agreement. 

Yes, I am checking out books about angels, the afterlife, and dreams. 

The librarian, with a flower behind her ear, then told me that when she saw me come in, she printed out a poem for me.  She pushed the piece of paper toward me and as I glanced down at the loving words of the poem, I couldn't believe

-the kindness.

photo via

I Love You

My husband was a very romantic person. 

As I mentioned in Roses Are Red , the first year we dated, he literally, sent me a dozen red roses - every week.  Who does that?  

My hubby did. 

Do you know what is interesting? 

I refused to tell him, "I love you." 

For long into our relationship, I just apologized because I had to be sure before I said it. 

I told him that when I do say those words, it is a promise from my heart. 

That was true. 

After about six-months of dating, 

When, I really noticed the beautiful laugh-lines around his eyes,

I knew I was done for...

I did say those words to him.

 "I Love You."

You know what?

I meant it.

I have been having an especially difficult time with the idea that, in this lifetime, I will not see my husband again.  I am not angry at him (yet) or at a Higher Power (yet) for this fact. After all, it is not my husband's fault that Pulmonary Fibrosis has taken his life. 

Lord knows, my hubby did all within his means to stay here -with us.  A higher power must have some kind of plans for my husband's spirit, that is of greater importance to my, little-own, needs.  So, I do not waste energy on this. 

 I do spend a lot of energy thinking about all of the moments that he and I shared together.  I guess that is where I am at.  Sometimes, I feel like I am watching a black-and-white, homemade film of our life together, in my mind.  I wonder, where does this leave me?  Now, where I stand, what am I supposed to move forward with? 

Today is such an overcast day, not a glimpse of sunshine to be seen. 

Here, it is evening and the walls of my kitchen glow a bright salmon color, and is when I realize that the Sun is peaking out. 

 Just long enough to say, "Goodnight!" 

Rushing to the window, I make sure that am a witness of this. 

Then, sure enough the Sun is going down. 

Within the process of watching it recess, I think to myself, "My life with my hubby is exactly like this."

  How absurd it is of me to beg the sunset not to come to its fruition. 

The Ever Constant Sea

A Dear Friend who lost her husband to Pulmonary Fibrosis sent this to me.  It was something her husband had given to her on a Valentine's Day, years ago.  I thought I would pass this on to you...

THE EVER CONSTANT SEA by Rod McKuen

Once upon a time loving set me free, free as any bird who ever heard the wind blow in the trees.
After love had gone I had merely me and my only friend the ever constant sea.
We've been through it all, my old friend and me, summertime and fall have shown us

all the world there is to see.
So if I love again, if love is good to me, I'll share it with my friend...
the ever constant sea.

Excerpt from "The Sea, The Earth, The Sky"

photo via