Fulfilling his last wish

Early on in our relationship, Seth and I talked about what we wanted if one of us ever passed away.

Seth wanted to be cremated and have his ashes spread off the top of Angels landing in Zion’s National Park.

One of our first vacations together, we went to Zion’s National Park.

We even hiked Angel’s landing.

The hike and view was amazing.

Seth and I on top of Angel's landing - 2002

But it’s one of those things that I was glad I did it, but wouldn't do it again. The hike was super hard and parts of it are super scary. One part of it you walk along a ridge, holding onto a chain. It’s cliffs on both sides, one wrong step and you would fall about 5,000 feet before hitting the ground.

Shortly before Seth died, we again talked about what we wanted if one of us died.

He reminded me that he wanted his ashes spread off Angel’s landing. I reminded him that I was keeping half of his ashes, at home with me. In all honesty, really, I shrugged it off. I figured by time he died, I would be far too old to make the hike.

When he did die, my brain constantly reminded me of his wishes.

The following Memorial day, me, my friends and family, all drove to Zion’s National park to fulfill Seth’s last wishes.

I was angry with him. I didn't want to climb that damn mountain, just to dump his ashes over the edge. I could dump them on the ground in Zion’s without having to climb the mountain.

I questioned if Seth even cared now about what happened to his body. I questioned if all that mattered was that I was happy with my decisions for his remains.

 Because I promised him I was spread his ashes off Angel’s Landing, I had to keep my promise.

Even if my promise didn't matter to him anymore.

I knew if I didn't keep my word, it would always haunt me.

I separated his ashes into small bottles. So everyone that went to Zion’s with me, could spread part of Seth. There were people that couldn't make the hike, that spread his ashes elsewhere in Zion’s. With his ashes I mixed the ashes from his 21 year old cat we had to put down years earlier, and sand I brought home from our Hawaii vacation that we took weeks before he died.

We set off really early to hike Angel’s landing. It was freezing cold and dark when we set off on our hike.

The whole hike up Angel’s landing, I was mad. Mad that Seth would ever ask me to do such a chore. Cried thinking about dumping my husband off a cliff. But the army of people that were with me, kept pushing me on. Even when I wanted to turn around and run home.

Source  The flat spot at the top of the picture is Angel's Landing

Once we finally made it to the top of Angel’s landing, I looked out over the valley. And thought “This is it. I came all this way, just to dump his ashes off the edge”.

I was the first to spread my bottle of ashes. I almost couldn't do it.

It seemed like life froze, and it took me a decade to open the bottle that held my husband's ashes.

I have never had so much anxiety and fear running through my veins. The worst had already happened, yet letting go of my husband’s ashes was terrifying.

Once I finally opened the bottle, the wind picked up. Even if I didn't like it or wasn't ready for it, his ashes were taking flight.

It took every ounce of mental power I had, to turn that bottle upside down, and let the wind carry my husband away.

I was shocked at how far his ashes flew. I could see his ashes in the air for miles.

At the end of the day, as much as I hated doing it, I was proud of myself.
Proud that I fulfilled Seth’s last wish.
Proud that I had enough courage to do it.
Proud that I could physically make the hike, especially with everything my body had gone through. 

Proud that I could now rest, knowing I gave Seth his dream.

His dream to fly off Angel’s landing.

Now when I die, some poor soul is going to have to hike my ashes to my husband’s final resting place.

Angel’s Landing. Once thought to be so high that only angel's could get to it. 

Now it all makes sense. My husband is with the Angel's.

Me on top of Angel's Landing, watching my husband fly away.

Dream Water or Insomnia Water?

Or in my case, drink to panic and then wake up every few hours to make sure I'm not dead. 

Source

I have just not been sleeping through the night. Not one night in...I don't even know how long. I wake up at 4 or 5 am and lie there in a state of mild unease and anxiety. Sometimes I fall back to sleep and sometimes I don't. Sometimes I take melatonin, sometimes I take Advil PM, sometimes I drink sleepytime tea. Nothing seems to consistently work. The lack of sleep makes me a forgetful, confused and weepy girl. I need a hell of a lot of sleep to function on all cylinders.

Last night, in an effort to get more sleep, I drank a little shot of a natural sleep aid called Dream Water*.

Right after I drank it I went to take my daily dose of Zoloft (I'm serotonin-challenged) and stopped suddenly before I could shake the pill out of the bottle into my palm. I realized with a shock that the "natural" sleep aid I took could have unfortunate interactions with Zoloft.

Then I did what I know I shouldn't have done. I googled drug interactions with zoloft.

The active ingredients in Dream Water are melatonin, 5-HTP and GAMA. I have taken melatonin many times before but was completely unfamiliar with the other two.

The google search led me to a list a mile long of drugs to NEVER TAKE ALONG WITH ZOLOFT. There were little red exclamation points next to each drug name. It may as well have been a giant skull and crossbones and a blinking red neon sign that read "IMMINENT DEATH".

In the list was 5-HTP. Before I panicked too much (I vaguely wondered if I should be making myself barf) I noticed some other medications on the list. They included Advil, almost every cough medicine known to man, and a migraine medication I've taken for years. It appeared as though they put every medication available by prescription AND over the counter on the "do not mix with zoloft" list.  So, I relaxed. I did not commence "fingers down the throat" or "head to the ER" mode. I just went to bed. But my brain continued to worry about the possibility of dying in my sleep so I woke up about every two hours, ALL NIGHT LONG. Thanks Dream Water!

What I realized, though, was that as much as I hurt and often wish to be relieved of the pain and work of grief, I don't want to die. I'm not ready to go. Even the thought of being with Dave again isn't enough to give me a real death wish of any kind.

There are times when I see young families and think that maybe my chance for that is over and was taken from me the day Dave breathed his last. There are times when I wish for an end to my pain. But not once have I actually wished to die.

I want to live. I want to feel true joy and happiness again.  I know deep down that I deserve it.

At the very least, I have now recorded these thoughts I'm able to have on a "good day" and can remind myself that I've felt this way, this hopeful, and that I can feel it again. I can access that emotion again. Maybe on a bad day I won't be receptive to this feeling, but it's there. It's filed away for later. The terrible, black days always have a light at the end of them.

Knowing that is sometimes the only way through the days when hauling myself out of bed feels impossible.

*This is not an ad for Dream Water. It would be a pretty crappy ad, if so. 

MIP

from here

I drove home from the apartment yesterday having spent the day waiting for the new furniture to be delivered and coming to terms with the fact that there was suddenly an offer on my house and I accepted. The loss I've suffered suddenly felt brand new again.

On the ride home, I was on maybe the fourth hour of steady crying and trying to breathe with a chest turned tight and claustrophobic with fear. I remember coming to a rolling stop somewhere south of Longview and looking over at the traffic speeding easily by in the other direction. Only a small strip of grassy median separated me from that traffic and the thought crossed my mind that ending this kind of pain would require a quick left turn, a bump or two over the median and to launch the car into the oncoming traffic.* There was even a big semi coming. The thought did not recur and did not last long (and hasn't recurred since, I swear). Maybe a few seconds. But it was there. And it scared me. I knew at that moment that it was time to be honest about how much help I needed. I began to send out requests for help.

I continued to cry and a recurring thought I battled the rest of the way home was "I am no one's most important person". I am no living person's mommy, kid or wife or daughter.

I thought for the millionth time about chosen family then. About how maybe I don't have a living mom, dad, or husband, but I do have sisters and brothers. Maybe not siblings by blood, but I have them. And though they have Most Important People (their kids, spouses, parents) who am I to say where I rank on their list of MIP's?

I thought of the actual blood family I haven't had the chance to become close with over the years but who love me still. From afar. Without reservation. I am someone's cousin, someone's "auntie", someone's niece. 

I thought of how even when Dave was alive, there were other people on the planet I loved almost as fiercely. I couldn't really rank them with Dave. There's no ranking when it comes to love.

The next day, today, has been hard too. But I sat down in the midst of my darkest feelings and thoughts and wrote up a help request to my closest friends. I wrote them a list of tasks that I have to complete before the house closes and asked them to let me know which ones they could help with. All the while, I was battling the fear that my needs are so numerous right now that they will overtax my loved ones' energy and get in the way of their needs. But then a sister reminded me of the way that they can each pick and choose from the list I'd made to suit their needs and that asking for help was so important.

And the help came flooding in. Along with the help came relief and a glimmer of hope, a reminder that although I am no one's mom or daughter or wife, I am loved and cared for. And I'm not alone.

Then, I cried some more but the tears and sobs came from a place of utter gratitude and relief.

 * I urgently wished to be with Dave again and for my old life to come back. I urgently wished for a little break from the seemingly unbearable pain I feel when the grief monster strikes. I think this is very different from actual suicidal thinking. Suicidal thinking is believing that dying is the only way to solve your problems or end your pain. My beliefs about life after death aren't even enough to convince me I'd be with Dave if I died, anyway, so dying isn't something I think will solve my problems and I would NEVER put my loved ones through such an ordeal. Especially, now, knowing exactly what it feels like to be left behind by your MIP. In addition, losing Dave has made me ultra aware of the gift of life. I get to live and experience things and Dave doesn't. I will not waste that gift. Dave would KILL me if he knew I did (ha ha). I just needed to be honest about the depths of the pain I experienced so that others can feel connected to my experience. If I'm not honest, I don't honor how hard this is or how real this is. Forgive me in advance for making anyone worry about me more than they already do. I wouldn't have mentioned it if I didn't think it was important to.