Trying

Today was Halloween.  Our first without you.  Joey pretty much hung out in his room, so that seemed normal.  Your mom and I went to Sophie's class party.  I led some freeze dance songs and the song "Bear Hunt" and it was fun for the kids and for me.  Before she left your mom played paper dolls with Sophie.  It was good to hear them laugh.  Tonight I took Sophie trick or treating.  Mom joined us for a while.  We returned home and Sophie and I sat on the living room floor and watched spooky cartoons and ate candy.

I'm trying to make this normal for them.  I'm trying to do things we would normally do.  Trying not to work so much at night so that I can engage Sophie as much as she needs.  Trying to talk to Joey about his future and help him make plans.  Trying to smile even when I feel like screaming.  Trying to breathe slowly and nod my head instead of falling to the floor sobbing when I feel that wave of pain wash over me.

Tonight Sophie climbed up on the couch with me, curled up in her blanket, with her head on my lap.  She gently sucked her thumb and stared up at me for a few minutes.  Then she said "What does it look like in heaven?"

She's been doing this some.  She's processing all of this in her own way and I'm giving her the information and the support she needs in a supply and demand fashion.  We talked about it for a few minutes.  I had to confess that I didn't really know much about heaven because the Bible isn't specific.  She said "Well I can't even read a book like that so how am I supposed to know?"  *giggle*  That?  That sass she gets from you.  She wants to understand, but this is tough. 

Our conversation:

Sophie: What does it look like in heaven?
Me: *Making up a bunch of shit because the Bible is a little vague on the specifics.* It's hard to say exactly but we'll have new bodies that aren't sick and we'll be happy. We will get to see people that have already gone to heaven and we will know them. It's a pretty amazing place and I bet that it is beautiful.
Sophie: Will there be stores?
Me: Well, I don't know really. The Bible doesn't really say.
Sophie: Well, I can't even read a book like that. How am I supposed to know?
Me: I can tell you what I know! Some say there will be big beautiful mansions there. That sounds nice.
Sophie: It's not fair that daddy got to go there first!
Me: *........*
Sophie: First daddy goes and then second it will probably be you.
Me: *laughing nervously* Well, that's probably how it will go but not for a long, long time.
Sophie: So, who's going to take care of me?
Me: I will take care of you!
Sophie: What about when you go to heaven? Who will take care of me?
Me: Hopefully you will be all grown up before that happens and you'll be able to take care of yourself. I will still miss you and you will still miss me but you'll be all grown up and will be okay.
Sophie: I always want you to take care of me.

Wow.

I'm trying.  I'm trying to reassure her that I'll be here for a long, long time. I'm trying to help her understand that most grown ups don't die at 45.  Trying to be enough for both you and I.  Trying to say and be everything that she and Joey need.

Trying to just keep breathing.
Trying to just keep sleeping and waking up.
Trying to just live.

And it sucks.

Empty Chairs and Water Bottles

Yesterday.  This is the empty chair beside me in church.  The one that you sat in.  The one that you sat in and held my hand.  Church was tough.  Greg preached and did a great job (as always) and talked about hope.  At one point near the end of the service they sang a song and he invited people down to the front to ring a bell to show "I'm not dead yet!  I'm alive!  I have hope!"

Wow.  I know I needed to hear that, but wow.  It took me most of the song to move, but I did it.  I walked up in front of all of those people that I KNOW were staring at me and rang the bell as my eyes burned and my chest pounded.

You know those big water bottles that you saved and refilled?  Well, I hate them.  You knew that.  Just seemed gross or something.  I don't know.  Well, I threw one of them away today, because...well....I hate them and you aren't here to save them.  Within an hour I felt bad.  Really bad.  Over a water bottle.  A damn, dirty, shouldn't have ever been recycled, gas station water bottle.  This?  This is the crazy that I am wading through right now.  This is why I am

A few days ago, this popped up in my news feed and Timehop:

Is this one of those signs that I was waiting for?  God's perfect timing?  I don't know, but I can hear you saying this.  I know you struggled, but you always had hope.  I must admit that sometimes I feel like I'm hanging on these words and the hoping you were talking about like a cartoon character hanging onto the end of the boat being thrown all over the place.  It feels like tidal waves of pain are smashing into me and I'm just holding on.  Barely holding on.  I can't wait to see you again.  I can't wait to feel your arms around me and to hear you say "Hey, baby!"  I can't even imagine how incredible that will be.

Perhaps what I'm feeling is more than hope.  Perhaps this is just an insatiable longing for my REAL home.  I know I will see you again.  I know I will hold your hand again.  I know.  

Right now?  Right now I just have hope that I can live through the tidal waves.

We Three Kings

I guess that from the middle of September to the middle of October is when the REAL autumn like weather appeared.  In September we went into the hospital with 95 degree days and this week we are in the 30s and 40s.  I remember how much you loved this time of year and loved the chilliness of the evenings.

You told me how much your mom loved this time growing up and how you would sit outside under gray skies in the cold pretending to hunt witches or chase bad guys in the apartments where you grew up.  We would often find time to sit outside and "chill" just a little.  I miss you.  So much.

I miss cuddling up with you and giggling in the cold.
I miss laughing at the kids one second and marveling at them the next.
I miss talking about movies.
I miss your warm hand in mine as we drive down the road.

Yesterday was Spooky Dinner.  Remember how much fun we had planning what to make?  Well, I just made punch this year.  It was really just about all that I could do.  I dressed up because I knew that Sophie would love that.  I pretended that I was fine.  I was not.

I drove the kids home and really wished you were there so that we could chat about the evening and who was there and what tasted the best and I don't know....just chat.

Today we went to Beggs' Family Farm and Lamberts.  It was incredibly cold.  Brrrr!  I missed you at Lambert's.  I just missed chatting with you and listening to you talk to everyone else.  I missed watching you hold Sophie's hand as we walked in and coaching Joey through the menu.  We did okay.  Joey and Sophie were fine and the meal was pleasant enough.  Joey made a spectacular roll catch!  (Over the log in the ceiling even!)

The farm had several new attractions that Sophie and Charlie loved.  Joey got kettle corn (which I think he always gets) and drove Sophie around in the peddle buggy things.  Sophie was insistent that she go in the haunted house.  I'm sure you wouldn't be surprised to learn that she did great.  This child is not afraid of anything!

After the farm, I needed to stop in Cape to spend some Kohl's cash.  On the way there we passed the theater.  It has been totally renovated. It has been painted (a drastic change!) and the awesome dream lounger sign is up.  For just a few seconds I was SO excited and couldn't wait to tell you that I saw it and to plan our trip to see Thor next weekend.

It really was like a physical kick to my chest.  Almost as soon as I started to feel that happy, excited feeling it was smashed out of me.  I kind of covered my physical reaction with a cough, but I was really shaken.

Every day.  Every day there's so much that I want to tell you.  So many ways that I need you.

At Kohl's I was haunted just thinking about walking through there and exploring the kitchen section with you.  I loved how we always talked about our "dream kitchen" there and how we would fill it with the coolest gadgets and gizmos.  Tonight I walked through the aisles wearing my sadness like a dark, heavy cloak.  My chest was heavy so I had to concentrate on breathing.

This is hard.  This is so hard.

I know you want me to be okay.  I know you want me to love the kids fiercely and continue on.  You've said it more than once.  I remember once just out of the blue you said "If I die before you, I know you'll be fine.  You are amazing.  It's okay to miss me, but don't miss out on life either."  I don't feel fine, Jas.  I feel awful.  I feel broken and scared.

Each time you said stuff like that, it always felt a little morbid or something.  I realized then as I do now that you wanted to leave nothing unsaid.  I really am thankful for that.  I've told some in the last week that we didn't have anything that needed to be said or any "unfinished business".  We talked about everything.  We told each other how we felt about each other often and said "I love you" many times a day.  I am incredibly thankful.

I realized yesterday, sitting on the couch opening cards from all over the place that my family was once again "We Three Kings".  Remember how we used that on our Christmas cards before Sophie's miraculous appearance?  I'm not sure what I felt when I realized that.  Irony?  I don't know.  Despair?  Probably.

That picture of us on the swing?  That's me, trying to find a new normal, trying to celebrate our love by fiercely loving the kids, trying to keep traditions alive.  That's me with my heart broken without you by my side.  This is hard.

Sons of Bitches

It's been a week.  A very long, very emotional, very exhausting week.

Well, today really sucked.  I went to the Social Security office to transfer benefits to Sophie.  She's getting about half of what you received.  It's fine I guess.  God has blessed us with the means to take care of the kids in other ways.  That was just a little disappointing.  This printout was also pretty awful to see.  I mean, I know that our marriage was dissolved when one of us died, but looking at this in black and white was overwhelming.  This is not how it was supposed to be.

The funeral home STILL hasn't filed the report of your death in the computer.  He told me he was doing that when we left on Friday.  Nope.  So I filed what I could and the SS office will follow up next week.  AND the funeral home printed the wrong obituary in the paper.  I am really unhappy with the way they have handled things.  Disrespectful, incompetent....I could go on.  They are making this even worse.

I drove to the cemetery this afternoon just to see how things were.  It was odd.  I went alone and everything was so quiet and peaceful there.  I could her the birds chirping and hear the grass blowing in the wind.  I looked at your grave for a few minutes before I realized that I wasn't feeling anything.

I just stared at it matter-of-factly thinking to myself "I'm glad he's not really here."  I didn't cry or scream like I thought I might.  I didn't throw myself down on your grave and make mud angels crying out to God in anguish.  I just stood there, looking down, not really reacting. 

The flowers were soggy and starting to wilt.  Your awesome ribbon had already started fading and a small metal sign had your name and 1972-2017 on it.  One of the letters was drawn on in permanent marker and the funeral home had all of its information on it.  Sons of bitches.  I'm finding something else to put there.  I don't know what, but not that.

The Next Hardest Day

It was hard to move today.  It was hard to get out of bed and into the shower.  It was hard to start today.  Today is the first day of me moving on without you.

I drove alone to a pumpkin patch in Perryville.  It was Sophie's first field trip and she was so excited that I was going.  It was weird driving alone.  Being alone.  Sophie had fun.  I kind of went through the motions.  It was cold and a bit gray.  It matched my mood.

I went to see Dr. Robbins because I had missed appointments while you were in the hospital.  I cried.  I could hardly look at him.  He was sad and consoling.  Sensitive.  He insisted I take something to help with my nerves even if I never used it.

Finally at home, Sophie's tooth began hurting and all she could do was cry.  So, alone, I handled the first emergency without you.  I missed you every single step of the way.  I needed your advice.  I needed your strength.  God, Jas.  I need you so much.

There are friends checking in on me via the phone or video messaging.  They won't know how much they are carrying me right now.

Today was really the next hardest day.  As I cuddled with a now pain-free Sophie, I had just the tiniest sense that maybe I could do this.  Then I burst into tears.

I don't want to do this.

Waiting for a Sign

Last night was the first REAL night.  You know, the first real night that the three of us were just here. 

I opened cards, browsed emails, cried.  There are so many flowers in the house.  There is so much fried chicken in the house.

Sophie is sleeping in your spot in our bed.  I don't know if it is best or not but I'm glad she's there.  Joey is still sleeping.  He was pretty quiet last night.

I didn't sleep well last night.  Not at all.  I've had several friends contact me and tell me to look for signs that you are still with us.  They've said that they had experienced things that comforted them.  One had some funny things happen with electronics, another felt a touch when no one was there and another kept finding gifts that reminded her of a personal joke she and her hubby shared.

I kept waking up hoping for some kind of sign.  Was the iPad thing your way of letting me know that you were okay?  Is that even possible?  I wanted you to appear to me in my dreams or to find a secret letter you had left me or hear a message or something.  I don't know. 

I was just restless waiting for some kind of sign from you.

The Funeral - Walking Away

This morning it was easy to walk into the funeral home.  I wanted to see you and touch you and ask you in some way to help me get through this.  Remember after some of the funerals that we attended we would have wild, life-affirming sex?  Yeah....that didn't happen last night.  I ate pizza and cried and thought about all of the things I wouldn't be doing with you again.

When I woke Sophie up this morning the first thing she said was "What are we going to do today?"  LOL....haven't we heard that EVERY morning for the last few years?  Here's our conversation:

Me: Sophie, it's time to get up. 
Sophie: What are we going to do today?
Me: Today is daddy's funeral. We will get more hugs from people that love us and then there will be a service where people say some things and we listen to a few songs. Then we will look at daddy's body one last time. Then we will drive to the cemetery because that's where daddy's body will stay. He doesn't need it any more. 
Sophie: You know that talking part of the service? I'm pretty sure that I'll need to go out to that little room and play with the girls instead.
Me (laughing): Yeah, I know but you'll have to sit by me.
Sophie: (deep sigh) What else will we do today?
Me: Well after the cemetery we will come back to town and have lunch.
Sophie (raising her eyebrows): I like that part.

I know.  She gets it honest, doesn't she?

We arrived before everyone else and I pulled up a chair to sit near the casket.  I ran my fingers over yours and traced the letters on your shirt.  I smoothed your hair and gently touched your mustache.  I ran my finger over your eyebrows and remembered how you told me that as a boy your mom would gently stroke your eyelids to help you fall asleep.  Your love for her was amazing, solid and pure.  You were as devoted to her as she was to you.

Much to what I'm sure would have been your dismay, I took a few pictures this morning while I was in the room alone.  I don't need to look at them now, but someday I might want too.  You look like you.  Well, with a skinny nose and bad lipstick, but other than that...you looked like you.

A few people came in this morning that couldn't come in last night.  We hugged and cried.  I'm sure I said things to them, but I don't really remember what I said.  Then it was time.  I just couldn't pull myself away.  I knew that after the service started that they would take you away and I just wasn't sure about that.  Jasper helped.  Okay, he had to almost pull me away but I didn't make a scene.

Then what happened next was pretty beautiful.  The service started with "Lead Me to Rest" by Acapella.  It probably seemed weird to some people since your visitation playlist was worship music and just a touch of metal but I know how much you loved this song.  Jasper read your obituary including the phrase "paroled to Jesus" like you wanted and then shared stories about college and his great love for you.  Bryan delivered the message.  He's so great at what he does.  It helped.  I don't think it will help forever, but today there was just a little bit of peace after that.

The service ended with "I Can Only Imagine".  Whew.  What the hell was I thinking?  All I could do was ugly sob.  My love for you seemed to leak out of my eyes and my heart raced hoping that everything I believe about heaven is true.  I could see you in the hospital bed struggling to just exist.  I could see you in the dark whispering my name in that sexy growl.  I could see you walking into church with the kids at your side.  I could hear you say "...and then don't be afraid to parole me to Jesus.  You'll be fine and I'll be better."

I think it was at that moment that my broken heart could take absolutely no more.  I lifted my hands praising God for giving you to me and at the same time screaming silently for Him to take me too.  Then I felt Joey put his hand on me and Sophie nuzzle my arm.  God's timing.

Joey is grown up and learning to be the kind of man you've modeled all of his life.  He's seen you lead.  He's seen you fail.  He's seen you ask for forgiveness and boldly speak love and acceptance to him.  Sophie is optimistic and a bundle of sunshine.  She misses your cuddles and playing with you.  I think she has your imagination and I know she has your heart.  Perhaps they are at just the right age to help me live without you physically by my side.

When the service was over, the parade of love began.  The parade of love is painful and sweaty and suffocating and beautiful.  So many tears, baby.  So many hearts that you've touched.  Joey sat sternly beside me and Sophie lifted her arms to each person that walked by to embrace them.  She was a cute little hugging machine.

Then it was just us.  The front row.  The inner circle.  Those closest to you.

You mother's heart was broken.  Your kids had tears streaming down their faces.  Family watched helplessly to the side.  Oh my god.  I've never physically felt such emotional pain before.

For a few minutes I just stared.  I wanted so bad to touch your lips one more time, but wow....creepy as fuck.  I kissed my fingers and touched them to your lips.  I touched your eyebrows and stroked your hair again as my tears fell on you.  Then it was time to go.  Time to walk away and never see your actual face again.

I leaned down and brushed my lips against yours.
Then I turned and walked away from the very best years of my life.

Graveside with No Panties

A beautiful day.  It was a drive you would have enjoyed.  It was cool outside, but sunny and the trees were holding on to their color beautifully.  It had rained last night so the bridge that has a couple of inches of water over it had a few more inches over it.  It didn't bother us, but I'm sure some that have never been there before were a bit hesitant to cross.  

There was a tent set up near dad's grave and the little funeral folding chairs were set up.  I had to sit in one.  It didn't seem real.  I mean, it was real, but that I was the widow.  I was the bereaved.  I had to sit in one of those chairs.  In one of THOSE chairs.

Unfortunately, the chairs were sitting uphill and so when I sat in them I reclined a bit.  Not good.  Angie told me that she would hold the chair so I didn't tip over and I made a joke about how funny that would be since I wasn't wearing panties.  I obviously said that a little too loud as a few people nearby heard it.  I replied "Well, it's what Jason would have wanted."  I totally had panties on, just FYI but you can pretend I didn't if it helps in any way.

Bryan told a story about a little boy that cut through a cemetery each day on his way home from school.  When the other kids asked him why he did that he replied "It's just on my way home."  I was thankful for just a moment after that story.  Thankful that I would get to see you again and that you would feel better.  Is there frisky welcome to heaven sex?  I'm going to hope so.

I thought the casket looked pretty in the sunlight.  I know you liked it here.  You had commented often about how peaceful it was as you listened to me moan and groan about having to mow it as a teenager.  It's a good place to lay your old body to rest.  I spent a good portion of the drive back to the funeral home imagining what you might be doing in your new one.

When we got home from the hospital a few days ago it was very important to Joey that we get in touch with your brother, Tony.  He was insistent and asked several times.  He was really glad to have him attend the funeral too.  He's a kind man and I'm glad he had a chance to connect with the kids.  I know you would have liked that too.

I'm already bothered by the way I say "You would have...." and then whatever.   I hate it so much.  I miss you so much.  I guess that it is a way that I can still include you.  What happens when I stop using that?  Will I?  I feel like I'm in some kind of stupor right now.  I can't imagine what happens from here.

I remember the times we talked about it.  I remember that you said "You'll be sad but you'll do what you have to do.  That's who you are."  I want to think that's true.  I'm thankful that you said those things now.  I didn't want to hear them then, but now they are like guideposts in my mind. I think that you knew me better than I know myself.  If that's true, what do I do now?

Visitation and the Cone of Sadness

Such a long day.  It was a long day even before your visitation.  By the end of the night it was insanely long.  I braced for it all day.  All day I fretted and worried and sat and cried and dreaded it.

When we arrived at the funeral home we kind of waited in the waiting area until everyone that we thought would be there was there.  I had pretty much decided that I wasn't going in.  I told Jasper that I was pretty sure I could do this from my car.  People could just walk by and knock on the window, express their condolences and then I could just roll the window up and cry and never have to go in and actually see your body.

The doors opened and we walked in.  I was actually shaking inside and out as I walked down the aisle and saw your body there.  Oh my god.  Oh my god.  Oh my god.
How could this be real? 

A voice that didn't sound like mine creaked out "Oh, baby! No." and tears just fell off of my face.  Joey, stood tall as he stared at you and he too began to cry.  Sophie clung to me and said "That looks like Daddy is sleeping.  He is really still."

Time literally seemed to stop as I stared at you.  You looked so much better than a couple of days ago.  It was gruesome and horrific.  Now?  It did look like you were sleeping.  Peacefully.

Then I felt Joey's head on my shoulder.  He loves you so much.  He's trying to be so strong but he's so young to have to live without you.  I'm worried that I won't have the same connection that the two of you did.  I'm worried that I'll be the worst single parent ever.  I'm worried about life without you.  We cried together.

Your mom's sobs were unforgettable.  I can't imagine watching one of our kids come into the world and walk them to the grave too.  I hope I don't have to.  I hope they live to a jolly old age having lived a life full of love and adventure.  You have been her life, her world, for 45 years.

Standing beside your coffin I loved that you looked like you.  I love that you are wearing a Star Wars shirt and that the creepy, giant Kylo Ren figure that has been standing over our bed for the last couple of years is at the foot of the casket.  There were a lot of flowers here.  Probably more than you would have expected.  I can imagine that you would say "Why the hell did they send flowers?  They should just send money.  These things are going to die."  *giggle*  They are beautiful and from so many thoughtful, loving people.

Your lipstick was bad.  Crooked. Weird.  I could feel your nipples through your shirt.  Also weird.  I mean, I didn't think they would be cut off or anything.  I just didn't realize that they would be so perky or that I would be able to feel them.  I tweaked them several times, just for old times' sake.  You're welcome.

Someone brought me real tissues because the ones that the funeral home had felt like I was rubbing my face on the sidewalk.  Someone else brought me a bottle of water.  A chair appeared behind me.  Kendra got your playlist going using groovy Bluetooth speakers.  The playlist included some of the songs from your worship playlist, oldies and of course a little metal thrown in for good measure.  Your slideshow played on the computer to the side.  Then they came.

Just a few a first and then a room full.  Then more around the room and out the door.  I stood by your side in the cone of sadness.  People from all of the schools I've worked, people from places that you've worked, college friends (some that drove hours to make it), an old girlfriend, a total stranger (seriously...a total stranger....never met you, worked for Dave and had been praying for you), family from the other side of the state, friends of Joey, Sophie's teachers, family, friends and more family.

There seemed to be a cone of sadness around me as I stood near your casket.  People waited in line and when they stepped into the cone of sadness you could see it in their eyes and practically feel it in the air.  The tears.  The hugs.  The hoarse whispers of "I'm so sorry."  Stepping out of the cone of sadness I watched as they dabbed their eyes, shook their heads and walked away.  Some stopped to chat to old friends they hadn't seen for a while.  Others just rushed out awkwardly.

After a while it felt like a marathon.  When it seemed that I couldn't cry anymore someone would walk up and they would look at me and the tears would fall again.  No one had anything inspiring to say because let's face it...this is horrible.  They did however tell me they were sorry, that they were praying for me and that they loved me and the kids.  That?  That did help a bit. 

After a few hours there was no line.

Sophie came to your casket again before we left.  She touched your arm and your hair and then she picked up your hand and let it drop.  I gasped.  Yikes!  It was gross or anything.  She was just trying to figure things out.  Immediately a Simpson's quote that we shared often popped into my head "Don't mess with the dead, boy.  They have eerie powers!"  I chuckled to myself.

Sophie spent most of the night in the little snack room.  That was a good place for her.  She hung out with Lilian and Claire, Kendra and Jasper and got gifts from visitors.  She is sunshine.  Even on such a dark day she finds things to be happy about.

Joey drove me home.  He's doing an amazing job.  You would be so proud of him.  Phyllis came and sat on the couch and ate pizza and let me talk.  I miss her.  I was glad she was there.  Mom spent the night again.  She's taking care of us.  We've needed her and I'm glad she's been here.

I fell asleep remembering the feel of your skin as I traced your fingers.  Cold and smooth and still.  Very still.

Was That You?

The old, cracked iPad that Sophie claims as hers?  Was that you?  The headphone jack hasn't worked for years.  We've tried.  Multiple times.

After returning from Cape today, Mom plugged the headphones into it, not knowing that it didn't work and it did. 

Sophie and I were a little spooked and delighted.  Was that you?

Clothes

Today was filled with crying. 
So much crying.  Everybody crying.

To start off the day I had to take your clothes in to the funeral home.  I was anxious and weepy and waves of intense sadness just seem to wash over me every few minutes.  I picked out one of your favorite Star Wars shirts and a pair of khakis.  It seemed more appropriate than something dressier.  It seemed like you.

After handing the clothes over I asked the funeral director about plugging in a phone or an iPod to the sound system so that I could play a playlist of your favorites.

"Sure, but that will be $400." he replied.
"Uhm....what?"  I stuttered.  I thought he was joking and I just playing along.  That's NOT what was happening.
"Yes.  It's $400 and I'll tell you why.  The last person who tried to wire their phone into the sound system cost me $400 to get it fixed!"
"I'm looking for a hole in the front of the machine to plug a cord into!"

He's such a dick.  I decided right away that I would find another solution.  There would be NO organ music and none of that flutey hymn stuff either.  Nope.

By the time I got back into the car I was in tears.  What the hell was wrong with him?  Why would he be like that?  Isn't this a business that requires customer service skills and compassion?  What a dick.

Mom had to drive to Cape because I was just too emotional to make it happen.  She's been around a lot lately and I'm really glad.  She's taken care of things and told me things to take care of and really just here if I needed to talk.

At Kohl's, Sophie picked out something quickly and skipped off to look at the toys.  Of course.  Joey made several thoughtful, mature (and expensive) choices.  Wow...he looks SO grown up!  So strong and handsome.

Claudia came and brought some food and stayed to chat a while.  I miss her.  It was really nice to catch up a bit.  We both promised to stay in touch more often.  I really hope that happens.  Jasper came down from the city to help me with the obituary and the slide show.  He also let me cry.  A lot.  They drove in from Chicago last night and I'm really glad they are here.

I am petrified about seeing your body tomorrow.  I keep remembering how you looked in the hospital the last time I saw you.  It was terrible.  Gruesome, even.  I don't think I can handle it.  Not in the casket.  Not in that place.

In good news, I'm taking that creepy Kylo Ren figure that's been looking down on me while I sleep for the last couple of years to set at the foot of your casket.  I think you would approve.  If not....*eh*...you died early with no plans.  I'm making lots of stupid decisions on your behalf.

You're welcome.

Event Planning

You know, I always love event planning.  I love picking a theme and creating all of the stuff to bring it to life.  There is no joy in planning this event.  None.  Why didn't we plan out our funerals like we talked about before?

My mom and your mom went with me.  I did not have to go into that horrible casket room like we walked in when dad died.  I was kind of freaking out about that so I'm glad I didn't have to go in there.  I knew what I wanted.  Something black and silver with a Darth Vader feel to it.

We sat down at the desk with the older guy at the funeral home.  We went through a list of things that had to be picked out.  The casket was first and I found exactly what I was looking for.  Perfect for your personality if that matters with these sort of things.  Several other choices were made including the worst guest book, obituary cards and thank yous.  Everything was SO old lady or farmer that the only thing that they had that would be anywhere close to you was these faded looking doves.  Sorry.  That's just what it had to be.  You didn't really seem to be into tractors or quilting so, doves is what you got.

Looking around the office and the whole home in general it was in desperate need of an update.  It felt old fashioned and like a prissy grandma's house.  Maybe that appeals to most of the clientele, but I guess we aren't exactly the typical visitors.  I don't know.

Then I had to sign the sheet to give them permission to embalm your body. "We actually did this last night." he said proudly.  I looked up startled, not realizing that things had happened so quickly.  Your mom started crying.

"They have embalmed him already?"  she said between tears.  I tried to comfort her by saying that is was probably best that they did it right away but honestly I was just making up shit.  What do I know about any of this?

I brought a poem that I liked to use in the little obituary books.  "It can't be very long!" he barked.

"What?"
"The poem can't be very long.  We have several you can choose from in a book here if you like."
Uhm... no. 

Here's what I picked:

This evening I had to start putting pictures together for your slide show.  Mom stayed with us last night.  Joey got up in the middle of the night and talked with her about everything that has happened.  He wanted to know how to help me.  Wow.  So grown up.

Tonight, Mom needed to go to work.  I really didn't want to work on the slideshow alone, going crazy and sobbing uncontrollably would probably not be productive anyway.  I called Tisha and they all came over and ate pizza and just hung out while I worked on it.  It helped just to have someone here.  Just to have the delightful, chaotic noise of family. 

When they left, I gave up hope of getting anything more done.  Joey retreated to his room and I held Sophie on the couch.

"We are going to miss daddy, very much aren't we?" she asked sadly.
"Yes."  I said with tears.  "I already miss him very much."
"Don't worry mama." she said getting me a tissue.  "It will be okay."

Thankful that are kids are the ages they are.  Joey is old enough to be responsible and help as an adult and Sophie keeps the wonder and beauty of life every day something I want to be a part of of.

You Didn't Make this Choice

"You didn't make this choice." the doctor said this morning.  "You didn't choose to have his kidneys stop working.  You didn't choose to have his thyroid not respond to the medicine.  You didn't choose to have his heart get weaker and you didn't want this ventilator in.  You didn't make this choice.  The choice you have to make is who to call and who you want to be with you."

"It feels like I'm killing him." I said through sobs.
"You are not killing him.  Do you think that he would consider this living?  What did you talk about together?"
"He said to fight as long as there was a reason to fight and then to parole him to Jesus.  We never talked about what that meant.  We never talked about WHAT had to go wrong or what goals he wouldn't make or I don't know.  I know he wouldn't want this.  I know that he is miserable.  I know that he wouldn't have wanted this whole last week."

"Will it happen fast?" I stuttered.

"Yes.  It will.  We won't do anything to help it along, but he's not doing anything on his own right now.  We will make him comfortable and you can be with him.

Loud, loud ugly crying took place.  My head exploded with a white hot panic and my body just seemed to shake.  This was NOT how it was supposed to go.

We talked a little more and he left promising to talk to your mom, Sophie and Joey when he arrived.  I just held your hand and cried.  I said your name loudly and your eyes popped open but closed right away.  I cried some more.  I asked you if this was what you wanted and if you were ready and dozens of other things.  I just needed you to wake up and tell me it was okay.  That everything was going to be okay.  That you were ready.  I needed you to help me.  I needed it so bad.

Hot Nurse Jesse came in to take care of the dialysis machine.  "I've never seen anyone recover from this point." he said.  "Most people don't recover from just one or two of the things he has going on.  He's fought so incredibly hard.  I know this isn't what you wanted to hear today."

"He isn't going to just wake up, is he?" I said with a shaky voice that didn't sound like mine.

Hot Nurse Jesse just looked down and shook his head.  When he looked up his eyes were a little glossy.  "No.  He is not."

It felt like a jacket of stone had been placed on me.  I left when your mom came in and went to the waiting room.  I called people or texted people or something.  I knew that her heart was breaking in the room with you.  I held Sophie in the waiting room.

Me:  I need to talk to you Sophie.  The doctors say that daddy is not going to get better.  They said that today daddy is going to go to heaven.  They have done every single thing they know to do and daddy has been so strong but nothing is working.

Sophie: What does that mean?  Can we go with him?

Me:  We can't go with him.  Daddy's body is sick and broken and doesn't work anymore.  The part of daddy that lives inside of his body, the part that likes movies and laughs at your jokes and always likes cheeseburgers and talks to Joey about video games and the part that loves us....that part goes to heaven when you die.  All that will be left is daddy's body.  It will still look like him and feel like him, but the part that makes him alive?  That part that makes him daddy?  It won't be in there any more.

Sophie: I don't want him to go to heaven.  Doesn't God know that I need him to teach me stuff and put me to bed at night? 

Me:  I know, honey.  We will be so sad and we will miss him so much.  We might cry and other people will cry because we love him so much.

And then I held her while we both cried in the waiting room that smelled like coffee and feet.

When Joey arrived, we were around your bed when the doctor came in.  This time the doctor took the "man to man" approach when discussing this craziness with Joey.  Joey was so grown up.  He understood so much and even though there were tears, he talked to the doctor with such maturity.

"I understand that you've done all that you can do, but that's still my dad.  He's still in there." he told them.  "He wouldn't want to be like this.  I know.  He's still my dad."

We left him to have some time with you alone.  He said later that you opened his eyes and tried to look at him when he called your name.  He was glad to have some time to just sit with you.  He loves you so much.  So very much.

The family arrived.  Bryan came.  Michelle and her family were there. Nurses from 2100 tried to check in and give hugs.  They took such good care of you and liked you so much.  I am thankful for your time on that floor.

Hot Nurse Jesse stayed in the room as doctors swarmed in and out whispering.  He removed the dialysis tubes and shut the machine off.  I sat beside your bed with Sophie in my lap and Joe standing right behind me.  I held your hand, Sophie stroked your arm.  The IV meds were stopped next.  There weren't many at this point anyway.  Then they gave you some pain medicine so that it wouldn't hurt when the ventilator tubes came out.  After a few minutes, Jesse tried to take the tape off your nose and you flinched, not opening your eyes.

"Wait!" he said to the respiratory guy.  "I think this is hurting him."  He gave you a little more and a few more minutes creeped by as your mom held your hand on the other side of the bed and cried.  The family was mostly outside of the room, blurs really from my view point.

Then they pulled out all of the tubes from your mouth and your nose.  I crawled into the bed beside you and put my arm around your neck.  The color drained from your face as your chest moved up and down just a little.  The LVAD was turned off discreetly so that it wouldn't set off the alarm.

My tears fell on you as I whispered in your ear that you were the best part of my life.  One last breath.

Your eyes rolled back and opened slightly, your jaw dropped, your lips were blue.  Due to the bleeding in your mouth, your teeth were streaked with black, dried blood.  It was horrific.

You were so still.  You were gone.

Sophie climbed on you, holding your arm.  Joey was right by her.  Your mom clung to you and I think my sobs must have filled the entire hall as I held you.  Bryan stood head bowed.  Michelle prayed.  Dave held Tisha while she cried.  Mom and Tim stood at the foot of the bed unable to speak. The others were there.  I couldn't see them, but they were there.

A short, pale-faced doctor pushed through to the side of the bed.  "I'm sorry, but we have to listen."  I slid out from under you and took a few steps away.  He took his stethoscope out and laid it on a couple of places on your chest.  Looking at the clock, he said "Time of death 3:45."

This?  This is not my happily ever after.

A Few Last Words

It's been a bad week.  No, really.  It's been a very bad week.  What should have been a week's long stay to remove excess fluid has turned into almost 40 days in the hospital. 

The last week you've had the breathing tube in and it's been awful.  Everything keeps getting worse.  For the last two days we've tried waking you up from the sedation and the pain meds but you aren't really coming out of it.  Yesterday they turned the ventilator down to see if you could breathe on your own.  The quick, short breaths were not enough to convince them that you could breathe on your own.

While trying to get you to wake up enough to try it I talked loudly to you, called your name, shook your hand.  You were beyond drowsy.  In a final attempt to get your attention I said "Jason!  Want me to take my shirt off?"  You smiled a big, goofy smile with your eyes still closed.  Everyone in the room laughed.  You heard me.  I know you did.

That was it, you know.  That was the last time that you really acknowledged something I said in a meaningful way.  That wasn't romantic.  Not even a little bit.  Okay...maybe a little bit.  I mean, it was me and it was you and together we were.... well....we were us.  Before the emergency that had the ventilator placed, you had on a bi-pap mask and you mouthed "I love you."  I may just reference that as your last words to me instead of the response to my inappropriate joke but just between the two of us?  That was perfect.  So perfect.

Earlier on the day that you mouthed "I love you"  (Sunday, I think) you were pretty delirious and were saying all sorts of things.  In a moment of clarity we had this conversation:

J: We have kids together don't we?
Me: Yes. Do you remember their names?
J: Joey and Sophie. I love them so much. 
Me: I know you do. They love you too. 
J: I know. Joey is a man. I love him.
Me: He is all grown up. I'm proud of him too.
J: And Sophie. Sometimes I look in her eyes. Those eyes. She smiles at me and my world is a better place just seeing her. 

You said often that your one goal in life was to be a good dad and husband.  Even in your delirium, even in your pain, you were amazing.

A New Direction

When I started this blog a couple of years ago, my intention was to record the stories of the life that Jason and I had lived together.  I thought it might be neat to hear about an event from each of our views.  I got started I guess, but then life got in the way and we never really came back to this.

We laughed.  We celebrated.  We fought.  We dreamed.  We loved.  Two years just evaporated.

He's gone now.  At least physically, he's gone.  And now?  Now this will be a place for me to speak through the all consuming grief that flows through me. Perhaps it will resonate with you.  Perhaps not.  I don't care.   This is for me, someday maybe for our children and this is for Jason.

If you are starting our story here, click "Newer Posts" after each post to read it in order.