A Really Bad Night ......

...... and day.

I wrote this post for my blog yesterday.
I don't have the energy to write anything else at the moment.
So you get to experience what I experienced.
Buckle your seat belts.

I'm staying in NY an extra day, though I'd much rather be on my way to Texas than sitting here, feeling what I'm feeling.

Last night, at some time after midnight, Daughter #1's cat made his way into my bedroom, which I almost always keep shut so that he can't come in.  I was in the rest room, getting ready for bed and I suddenly heard the window shade make a loud noise.  I looked over there and immediately knew what had happened.  Jack had come in, jumped up on the window sill and either jumped or fell out of the window.  I couldn't see him down there, but a guy was looking up at me, not saying anything or pointing at anything, just looking.
I started praying out loud, grabbed my shoes and my keys and flew out of the door, down the elevator and outside.  I looked all over but couldn't see him.  Then I started to hear his meow.  I couldn't tell if he was in a tree, or down on the ground.  The more I called his name, the louder is meow became.  I finally dropped to my hands and knees and crawled around and between newspaper machines and parked cars and there I found him ...... underneath a car.  He wouldn't' come to me but just kept meowing.  I could tell that his mouth was hurt and that he was bleeding.  I spoke soothingly to him and petted him as I crawled as close as I could under that car.  Then I managed to grab his tail and started gently pulling to try to get him to back out.  All four feet were clawed into the ground as much as he could manage, so I had to pull harder on his tail, hoping that I wasn't causing any further injuries, and hoping that he wouldn't turn on me and use those claws and his teeth.
He didn't and I was able to get him out.  I cradled him close to me and went back into my building and up into my room.  I grabbed a soft towel and wrapped him in it and then walked into Daughter #1's bedroom to do what I dreaded doing ..... waking her up to tell her what happened.
That's when I started crying.

She held him and talked to him while I got on the internet and searched for a nearby 24 hour vet hospital.  I called one, left a message and was told that a dr would return my call in 15 minutes.  We both felt that was too long to wait so after a few minutes I got back on line and called the next place.  A woman actually answered the phone because they really were open all night.  So we got the address, jumped into a cab and headed over.

D1 turned Jack over to the nurse who let us in and said the dr would be up as soon as he'd examined him.
D1 and I sat in a small exam room and cried and cried, saying very little to each other, other than the "I'm so sorry" that came out every 5 minutes or so.  She wouldn't even meet my eye.

The vet came in pretty quickly and said that Jack's jaw had been broken in several places. Part of the bone under his cheek had broken and it seemed to have gone behind his right eye, which explained the bleeding we had seen there.  He said that he didn't seem to have any other orthopedic problems, so that was good.  He was breathing very rapidly, which we had known, but that could be due to the pain and the stress and hopefully not a lung injury.  He said that there may be neurological  damage but that we wouldn't know that for another 24 hours or so.  They had sedated him, and given him pain meds, which makes it hard to assess his neuro condition.  But at least he was out of pain.

Then he started talking about the cost that it would take to fix him.  He was a very, very nice man.  He said that it would not be inexpensive, but that there are programs we could apply for to see if we could get financial help for this.  The problem with that was the time it would take and he needed help that night.  The hospital didn't want to start spending a large amount of money on him if the treatment could not be continued.  He said that he'd work up an estimate for the cost for overnight and then we could decide what to do after that.
He also said that, if we could not afford it, another choice was to go ahead and put him down.  It would be humane and painless and he'd support that.
I think that's pretty much when D1 stopped looking at me altogether.
The dr. left to go get the estimate, leaving us alone in the room.
And even though we didn't have eye contact I assured her that Jack would not be put to sleep.

I paid the estimate for the overnight bill, we went down to see him for a bit.  He was asleep and pain-free, but still a difficult site for D1.
Then we caught a cab back to the apartment and still managed to not look at each other.

I just bought window fans that day.  I had installed 2 in the living room and one in my bedroom.  The one in my bedroom fits perfectly and leaves no room for a cat to get out.  The two in the living room are less fitted, but they seemed secure enough to me to not let a cat over them.
It wasn't one of those windows that he jumped from ..... it was my window that was open about 4 inches.
D1 had expressed her fear of the cat falling when I had told her weeks ago that we weren't going to run the AC when the air outside was cool.  It would be too expensive and just crazy.  She wanted me to install screens on the windows, which would be astronomical and isn't all that easy to find around here.  So I opted for opening the windows a crack, except for in my room, because the cat wasn't allowed in there and the door was always (usually) kept shut.

Then I saw the window fans at Beth's house and thought that those would work.  We could have the window open, yet blocked because a fan was set in it.

This morning, after D1 left for work, I removed the fans from the living room windows and went back to opening them a crack.  I'm sure that they'll be completely shut if and when Jack comes back.

So hopefully you can see why I completely see this as my fault.  As I'm sure she does.
Which is why, when she stopped by the hospital this morning to get the astronomical estimate for what the surgery and after care would cost, I said, "OK."
Because what else could I say?

I haven't stopped crying since this happened.  It's unbelievable how much guilt a heart can hold.

But you want to know the kicker?  The real heart-splitting thing that I canNOT get out of my head? The thing that causes just as many tears today?

The doctor said this: "We need to wait for the swelling to go down before we can operate."

And though this is in NO WAY the same ...... and very very INSANE ...... those are the exact words I was told 5 years and almost 9 months ago..
EX.
ACT.

And those words are killing me all over again.

It's not about the cat.  Or whether or not he lives.
It's about D1, and what this will do to her, and her partner, whom I care for very much.
And what it will do it us.

But more than that ..... it's about Jim.  It's about waiting all that damn day before taking him into surgery.  It's about not being able to wait, in the end.
And it's about none of that mattering ...... in the end.
Because it was the end.

It's about some things that never end.
No matter how much you wish they would.

Changes

What follows is my own opinion.  I know it is not everyone's and I am truly glad to live in a country where I am free to vote for whomever I wish.  I am grateful to have a vote when so many women are denied this right.  ...and I also appreciate the freedom to express my opinions here.




Well, we've had a bit of a change over here in the past week..... there is a new Federal government and a new Prime Minister.



...and the emotions of the day, both in the queue at the polling booth (a really rude, racist man yelled at an elderly Asian lady, I just gave him my best teacher stare which seemed to shut him up .... and then later he followed the kids and I back to our car in order to hurl abuse at us) and the certainty that we were headed towards a new political era  ....  left me unable to calm down at the end of the day.

I was in tears as I watched the tally unfold. I was pacing the room and shouting at the television.   Really mature.  But really worried about the future of my country.

To add insult to injury, out voting system in the senate has a loophole which seems to have allocated seats to minor, single-issue, ridiculous parties that have an miniscule percentage if the primary vote, but preference deals have seen them somehow gain seats in the upper house. Motoring Enthusiasts Party anyone?  What about the Sporting Party?  Both of these single-issue groups have been handed seats in the upper house. 

It all makes me feel sad and worried about the future of my country.  It seems to me that we are taking a giant leap back 50 years.

...and I had no Greg to commiserate with me. Nobody to remind me that we survived years of this party in government before.  To tell me that things might not actually be as bad as I think they will be (he was ever the optimist but I can't help but focus on the climate-skeptic, right-wing, compassionless characteristics that seem to underpin their policies).  

I know I will pull myself out of this downwards dip and I know that I need to distract myself from thinking too hard about it all.

But for the time being, I shall mope around and kick things 'cause sometimes, that is just what I need to do.

I just hope Greg lets me know he is commiserating with me before I break a toe.....


 

Letter

source

I was looking through my miscellaneous writing pieces and found this letter I wrote myself during my writing workshop circle many months ago. The prompt we'd be given was to imagine you're yourself from the future writing to the present you. I think I may have posted this before, but once is not enough for this one.

I wish my internal voice always sounded this comforting and hopeful and full of faith in myself. I channeled this stuff from somewhere, though. It felt real as I wrote it. It didn't feel forced or fake. So, I read it now and then as a reminder. A reminder that is needed on some days nearly as much as breathe or food or water.

 A little voice of comfort and hope whispering "That fear you're blinded by most days? Put it down. Look around you. You survive. You are a survivor. There is so much to see when you turn away from that fear long enough to see it. Look. Breathe. Let it in."

 

I want you to listen carefully. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what you look like or smell like or sound like or dress like. 

It matters how much you love. 

But don’t love just anyone, honey. Love someone who makes you better than you would be without him or her. Love someone who makes you laugh until you pee. Love someone who thrills you and teaches you and honors you. Love someone who shares him or herself with you without hesitation. 

Don’t waste your time with the people who don’t love you back or who hurt you even though they love you. You can love them from afar but don’t let them stop you from living fully. Don’t let anyone get in your way. 

You know all those times you worried about what you said and how it might be the final straw that would turn that person away from you? Remember all those times you thought people would see right through your facade right down to the dark, selfish, ignorant, judgey, small and petty you? 

Oh, honey, don’t you know by now? You are worthy regardless. Every part of you and every cell of you is worthy and wonderful and the reason you sometimes feel so critical of others is because it’s YOU you’re so critical of. It’s just your own self-hate directed outward. Love yourself and and you’ll see good stuff in everyone else too. 

We’re all connected. The tiny 82 year old lady next door whose husband died when she was 50, the man in unit number 3 whose wife is clearly in the end stages of cancer or some other horrible disease. The gorgeous Greek guy who owns the restaurant on the corner and twinkles those blue eyes at you and makes you nervous and forget how to talk. The crazy hairstylist who channels old Chinese men. The beautiful, multifaceted women who come to your house to write each week. We find each other and we need each other and we’re all connected. We’re all worthy, faults and all. 

 

Remember what your beloved friend said to you? He said “I love you, bat-shit crazy and all”. 

That’s what I’m talking about, darling. That.

Remember to take good care of yourself, sweet pea. You have been through so much and your job now is to learn to give yourself what you need. The naps, the massages, the time to sit and think and cry. The chance to travel and meet new people and breathe and stop racing around trying to be better better better. 

If you can learn to give yourself that, you will make this loss a little less awful because something beautiful has arisen from its ashes. When you do, once again, find your days filled with work and possibly even a family, you might have the mindset of self-care a little more programmed in if you work on it now. 

Give yourself a chance honey. You deserve it. 

No one can take better care of you than you. Even if some wonderful man is worthy of your love and you find him, he can’t give you everything you need. You’ll need to pull from other sources to get all your needs met. The biggest source of all, the best source, hon, is you. 

 

Also, don’t go around so scared to lose. It’s something that will keep on happening. You can live in fear of it or not, and it’ll keep on happening. So then you’ve got loss and fear. Why have both? 

Live as fearlessly as you can. Walk right into the inevitable loss. There’s a whole lot of beauty along that road. And the loss? Well, you’ll survive it. Of course you will.

You’ll be very scared. Just remember to act anyway. Each time you do something that scares you, you’ll be a little stronger. You’ll build that courage muscle. Just treat yourself after you’ve done it. It’s a lot of work. I know it is. 

I know your core and I know you’ll be just fine. Just let in the love and light and do what scares you. Live and live and live until you fade away. You only have this one chance. Don’t ever forget that sweetheart.

Fear

I suffer from fear.

A lot of it I think is normal for what I've been through.

Fear of being alone for the rest of my days. Fear of having my heart broken. Fear of falling in love and having him die. Fear that something terrible will happen to someone I love and I’ll have to start this grief process all over again. Fear that I am getting a little to comfortable with being alone and getting set in my ways.

While a lot of these fears I have no control over. They are there. They are a part of the new me.

But there is one fear that I haven’t been able to accept.

My ultimate fear is.. Snowbird Ski Resort.

The place where my husband decided to end his life.

The place I have constantly avoided for three very long years.

I’ve realized my fear of a place holds me back. It holds me back from enjoying the amazing activities that the resort has to offer.

Every year we would go to OctoberFest that is held at Snowbird. We always went as a family.

I haven’t been since that life shattering day back in 2010.

When I saw OctoberFest was here, I decided it was time to face my fear.

It was time to get over it and enjoy the resort for what it is. A happy place. A fun place. Not the place my husband died at. Afterall, the resort didn’t kill my husband. He killed himself.

Last weekend I gathered up my friends and family.. off to OctoberFest we went. Off to Snowbird.

I had a great time at OctoberFest. I didn’t think much about my husband’s death.

Until I decided to face my ultimate fear.. take the tram to the top of Snowbird.

The same route my husband took. The same tram I identified my husband through surveillance cameras on.

Once we made it to the top I was happy. I was proud of myself. I was facing my fear instead of hiding from it.

At the top of Snowbird. My husband died on the other side of the ridge behind me.

I had a pretty bad meltdown at the top, but I was happy to put this fear behind me.

I can now stop avoiding Snowbird and appreciate it for the beauty it holds.

Invincible

You know that feeling….

You can do it all.
Conquer it all.
Get through it all.
You enter any situation or place almost as if you own the joint, simply because they’re by your side.
All is right.
All that isn’t, will soon be.
You’re safe.
All is sound.
You have the unquestionable and unshakeable knowledge that you are deeply loved.
For all that you are.
All that you’ll be.
Unconditionally.


Then loss occurs.
You have a feeling of self-doubt, instability and a fear to take one step forward.
It happens…


One of my favorite guided meditations to lead is the ‘feeling of love’ meditation, as I call it.
You go back to that place.
That safe place and power of a love someone showed you, which in turn bestowed you with a confidence and assurance that all will be well…even amazing.
Mid-way through the meditation, I ask them to release the image/place/feeling of that person, but to hold on to the energy.
It’s tough.
It can be painful.
But as they breathe through it. Inhaling the love. Exhaling the fear of being on a world without them here physically, a switch occurs.


It’s a meditation I personally guide myself through on days where I just need that extra oomph…. it’s that reminder that the invincible feeling I had with Michael wasn’t dependent solely on him, but created within myself when the perfect one for me showed me it was possible to find that love and power within.
I can still feel it.
Still walk in to a building like he’s by my side.
Feeling confident that it was in the action of someone loving me unconditionally that I was able to find within myself an unconditional love that knows no boundaries, or rules on when and how and where to come forth.
And I will rock.
And I will kick ass.
And will do it eyes wide open. Fearlessly.
To infinity and beyond

Almost time to say goodbye

Maggie died in May 2009.  I’ve been writing on Widow’s Voice since April 2011.  I don’t write as often as the other bloggers because I guess I’m the quiet one.  Yet I hope that my infrequency has been inversely reflected in the intensity of my posts; I’ve been open and honest and shared all that I’ve been working through.  My path – the same path you are on – sadly leaves only one set of footprints in the sand.  Yet, for some reason and maybe you feel the same, I’ve felt that my job is to keep drawing another set of footprints.

I’m now ready to stop drawing footprints in the sand.  It’s time for me to walk alone.  I’ve cleared the closet.  I’ve gotten rid of the shoes.  I’ve sold the house.  I changed jobs.  Our dog is no longer with me.  I’ve moved.  If there’s anything “us” that’s left, I don’t know what that might be. I guess my only last difficult part is saying goodbye to you.  That's hard, too.  For us, saying goodbye has a very, very, very different meaning than the rest of the world.  We have all been very seriously affected by goodbyes.  I, like you, take goodbyes very seriously.

Thus, it’s unlikely this will be my last post.  Hell, Michele (the founder and editor of Widow’s Voice) is likely spitting her coffee all over the keyboard as she reads this post because I didn’t warn her (Sorry!)  But it’s also unlikely that she didn’t know this was coming.  She's been watching me working hard at climbing out of the dark pit of despair for years.  You have all bared witness since April 2011 - more than three years.  For three years I’ve been struggling and while I’ve not “won” anything, I’ve survived and believed.  I’ve survived long enough to get my feet underneath me and my head back on straight.  Finally, I feel like I'm just at the beginning of start of my new life.

There are three things you must know:
#1.  No matter how hard it hurts, now matter how alone you feel, no matter how difficult it is to breathe, you can do this.  You can survive.  You can do this.

#2.  You are not alone.  You are not alone.  You are not alone.  (Yes, I typed that three times because damn it, no matter what anyone tells you or what you think when the lights are out late at night or when you are sitting on the train looking around or when you are at your best friend’s wedding, you are not alone.  We are everywhere and we are with you.)

#3.  You will never be “over it” but you will live and love again.  You will be happy again.

An unexpected surprise

My new morning view

We are settling into our new home here in West Virginia. It's a strange experience to live your entire life in one region and then move somewhere completely different in your thirties....but, I feel called here, and our family is loving it so far. And I've got lots to keep me busy!

One day last week, I decided to take a drive around and see the area a little bit more and try to figure out where things were and get acquainted with the place. I pulled up to the mall a few miles away and walked into one of the side entrances. As soon as I walked in, I had suddenly remembered being there before, almost 3 years ago, exactly two weeks after Jeremy had died....I came to lead worship in the area cause he and I were supposed to do it together and I decided to do it in his place and still go. With my sweet friends, we took an evening to walk around the mall and hang out. I was shocked that I even remembered that in the whirlwind of my aftermath and widow brain.

I continued walking through the mall and felt Jeremy's presence very strongly. I couldn't figure out why until I turned the corner into the food court. There, I saw him, sitting at one of the tables with Faith next to him as a baby......and it hit me.

I have been here before. With Jeremy.

My heart nearly leaped as it jumpstarted a memory I didn't even realize I had. What a beautiful surprise it was to remember coming here, 7 years ago, traveling with Jeremy to Ohio Valley University just up the road, and stopping here for lunch at the food court I now stood in. I remembered us driving across the street to pick up a stroller for Faith because we didn't realize how badly we would need one on the trip. That same stroller is sitting in my garage now three miles down the road.

It all came back to me and it was like Jer audibly whispered in my head "I'm here too." One of the hardest parts for me about moving was leaving Jeremy behind. You all here know what I mean. I talked about it a few weeks ago, but still struggled with picking up and moving somewhere Jer would never be a part of. Somewhere I thought I couldn't reach him. I fought tears for a few hours just thinking about how random, ironic, and special it was to know that I had shared a memory in a place I didn't even realize I had been before. Jeremy's presence was found hundreds of miles away from home.

This forgotten memory will now be one of my most cherished moments.