Eleven

Since it has been a crazy, busy week for me, and since I have been missing my husband in a way that is so intense lately I almost cannot handle it, I thought I would go back through my personal blog and find one of the few "visit" type dreams I have had about Don since he died, and share it with you here. I haven't had a dream like this one in awhile now, and so whenever I start missing him like mad, like right now, I go back and read this. I had this dream maybe 2 months after he died, in the fall of 2011. Here it is:

I was inside of a Best Buy, and I was in the movie section and picked up “This is Spinal Tap” and slowly started sobbing; because that is one of Don’s absolute favorite movies. I kept thinking of him always quoting from that, and Caddyshack, and Blazing Saddles. As I was sobbing, a large hand touched me on my shoulder and I turned around. It was Don. He was in one of his favorite shirts; a t-shirt we had bought the very first time I took him to the US Open tennis tournament. It said: “You call that a serve? Take that back to New Jersey!” I didn’t think it was that funny, but he found it hilarious and wore it all the time while playing tennis. Anyway, in the dream, I turned around and looked into his beautiful blue eyes and sobbed even harder.“I miss you so much” I cried into his chest.

“I know Boo.” he said, as he lightly ran his fingers through the back of my hair, sort of scratching it the way he used to.

“Why are you here? Are you back? You didn’t really die right?”

“Yes, I did. I’m sorry honey. I didn’t want to. It just happened.”

“But its not fair. You were always outside exercising, trying to stay in shape. You played tennis two days before.”

“I know, and I left this in my tennis bag by mistake. If only I would have moved it into my wallet, they would have been able to call you a lot sooner, while I was still alive. You couldn’t have done anything to save me, but maybe we could have said goodbye.”

He pulled out his drivers license and Emergency Hospital Card. The one where they ask your blood type, and to name someone to call in case of an emergency. It said “Kelley Niemi – Wife” and my phone number.

I looked at the card and kept crying: “When the hospital called me and woke me up, you were already dead.”

“I know Boo. It wasn’t supposed to happen there. I kept those things in my tennis bag whenever I played tennis, just in case. People usually have heart attacks while running, or playing tennis, or doing something strenuous. It just made more sense to put the information in my tennis bag. I just forgot to take it out before work that morning. I feel so badly that the paramedics or Petsmart staff didn’t know your number or how to call you. You know, my dad had his heart attack on the golf course.”

“Yeah – in his 80s!”

“I guess I didn’t get that lucky. I had to die in a freakin’ Petsmart in New Jersey!” he laughed and kissed my forehead.

“You made me so happy. I’m not happy anymore. All I do is cry, and try not to cry.”

“Its going to take a very long time Boo. I was pretty awesome.”

We both laugh.

Are we really standing here holding each other in the middle of a Best Buy?” I ask him.

“Its just a dream.” he says matter-of-factly, lightly smiling at me. “Its not real. Your heart wants so badly to talk to me again, to hold me again, so your mind is letting you in your dreams.”

“But I have nightmares. And even these dreams that seem nice now, are awful because when I wake up, I realize none of it was real and you’re still gone, and then I feel like shit.”

“I know Boo. Its all part of the grieving process. You’re going to feel like shit for a long time, and I hate that. That’s the crappy thing about dying. Its the people you leave behind that suffer.”

“But you got screwed, just like Ginger. Why didn’t you get more time? You deserved so much more time …” I sob intensely now.

“I wish there was an answer to that question that would comfort you. But there isn’t. It makes no sense.” It feels like his hug isn’t as tight anymore.

“Please please don’t go. You just got here.” I pause, then ask: “Will I see you again?”

“Yeah. Probably for awhile. But eventually, you wont need to.” He wipes my tears away.

“I cant imagine a day where I wont need or want to see you. I love you.”

I love you too Boo.” He starts to walk away, then turns back. “Oh, I noticed last night that you did some laundry. I never thought Id see the day … Boo doing laundry.” He laughs his awesome laugh.

“They just put in brand new washers and dryers downstairs. They aren’t like the old ones. I had no idea what I was doing. The settings were all different. Too many numbers.”

“Stop being so over dramatic”, he said as he laughed at me. “You’ll figure it out. Here’s a hint. The liquidy stuff … that’s called detergent. It goes inside the machine.” He always loved mocking me.

“I’ll try and remember that.” I said, still sobbing.

He turned around one last time. “Oh, and one last thing” I reached out to take his hand while he talked, but he was too far away now to reach him. “The old washers had settings that went to 10. These new ones go higher. These go to eleven.” He gave me a wink and a smile, knowing that I would catch the Spinal Tap reference. And then he was gone.

I woke up with a massive headache, and my pillow soaking wet from my tears. I looked over to his side of the bed, as I do every morning, and it was still empty. I sobbed and sobbed for what seemed like a half hour but probably wasn’t. Sammy ran up onto the bed and purred; rubbing his face against mine. “Its okay Mommy”, he seemed to be saying. Then he threw up on my arm.

Ready. For now.

source

After hitting the 3 year mark on Saturday, I feel like a heavy weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Grief never really leaves, but I think the experience alone in a new place, along with the fear that I might have the baby before I got to properly grieve and get through the week left me scared and hurting in new and different ways. But, like always - and sometimes without my consent - I survived.

I watched most of my friends and family grieve from afar, over facebook. I watched some people forget. I watched my kids write sweet notes and hand prints on lanterns and their faces lit up when we let them off in the sky. I watched the clock, remembering every moment of the day 3 years before. I watched my phone, looking for the names of people I care about to pop up. Some did, some didn't. And I watched for signs that somehow, somewhere, someone made a mistake and after three years, this wasn't still real.

Now, I feel ready to go back to facing the life that Jeremy wanted for me. I know I'll have plenty more days like last week, when the weight of everything seems too much, but for now, I have some clarity. I have contentment. I have the desire to make him proud and love the way he taught me how. I feel this urgency to not waste the short life I had with him and to continue to love and appreciate what I have now. I was gifted with another reminder of how short life is....and to see that as a 'gift' is no small feat. I can feel a piece of Jeremy's heart beating through mine and through the hearts of the 3 little miracles we created together. And I see more pieces in his sweet family that means the world to me. I will hold on to those pieces and take them with me along the way.

I'm ready. For now. Ready to face another day, ready to live, laugh, and love. And most importantly, right now....I'm ready to have this baby!

I've Met The Most Amazing People ......

This is a post I wrote on my blog ten months after Jim died.  I thought that I'd share it with you today.  I don't go back and read most of my posts.  I don't like re-visiting that "cave".  Especially those days where that cold, inky blackness totally engulfed me, filled every pore of my body and threatened to completely suffocate me.
But once in a while I'll remember a "lighter" post, which trust me, were few and far between back then.  I thought this one was interesting.  I hope you do, too.

October 10, 2008 
   Well, it's another late night so I have no idea where this will go.  I don't have the energy to find a picture of Jim to put here so I'm just going to "emote".

Note:  any time you see the word "emote" on my blog you should immediately run away.  If you have a Mac you should go to the top left corner and click on the X.  If you own a PC you should exit from this page (is it the top right side?  I can't remember).  

Anyway, you have been warned.  "Emote" = run away.  Proceed at your own risk.

     OK, here are some of the thoughts I've been thinking.  

First, I can NOT believe that it's been almost a year now in my "after".  A year.  Twelve months. Three hundred and sixty five (six with Leap Year) days.  A milestone.  A marker.  An anniversary.  An incredibly horrible amount of time to commemorate an incredibly horrible day. 

Incredible.  Horrible.

     I know it's only been almost 10 months, but 10 months is incredibly, horribly close to 12 months.

     It seems that it's been only a moment in time.  I blinked and now it's October.  Ten months later.  I need to stop blinking.

     The next thought is about my "new normal".  I know, in my head, that I have a new "normal".  But my heart has been waiting for the old normal to show up.  My heart has been waiting for things to get better.  My heart has been wanting life to carry on in the "before" way.

And now my mind is telling my heart, "Face the facts.  Life will never, ever again be "normal".  This will never, ever get better.  Your life will never, ever be the same and you won't feel the same.  You now have to adjust to the new "after".  And one day, the "after" will become "normal".  

No matter how much I don't want that.  

       

     Here's the next thought (if you haven't run away by now I'm giving you one last warning.  It only gets worse):

     I really, REALLY hate it when people say, "So-and-so was healed because your prayers worked."  Or "God answers prayer".  Or "If you have enough faith God will answer your prayer" or "So many people prayed for him/her that God healed him/her."

     To all of those trite and incredibly naive statements I want to answer, "Really?!?!?!!  Are you freakin' kidding me?!!".  Why is it that some peoples' prayers "work" and some don't?   Don't tell me it's the number of prayers because that has NOTHING to do with it.  I know this from personal experience.  And do NOT tell me that I did not have enough faith and so Jim died .... because that's EXACTLY what you say when you say that thing about having enough.  I had nothing but faith.  Nothing.  I had no doubt .... none, zero, zilch .... that Jim would come through that surgery with flying colors.  Not for one second.  

I.  Never.  Doubted.

And look what happened.

     If I learned anything through all of this it is this:  God is not Santa Claus.  Not even close.

We cannot give him a list of what we want or do not want and expect that He will grant our wants.  Even if that want is for physical healing of someone.  No matter how hard you pray.  No matter how many people pray.  No matter how much faith you have.

No matter.

Prayer is for you and you alone.  Prayer is for you to get closer to God.  Prayer is for you to learn to rely on God.  Prayer is for you to turn to God.  Prayer is for your relationship with God.  

Prayer is not to get your wish list.

God knows what's going to happen and what's not going to happen.  Who are we to think that we're so vital to His plan that we can change His mind?   Don't get me wrong .... I know that He loves me.  I know that He wants only good for me.  But I also know that if I weren't here He would use someone else.  

Cynical?  Maybe.  But then, all I have to go on is experience.

I love Him no less that I loved Him on December 17th, 2007.  In fact, I love Him more.  In spite.

He has been here.  Even when I don't feel Him, He's here.  He's carried me, he's wiped my tears, He's cried with me.  He is here.  

But he didn't allow Jim to live.  In spite of the prayers.  

In spite of .....

I'll never understand why and I'll never see the "good" in allowing him to die.

I can see Him using my "after" to help others.  I can see Him using my "after" for good.  But I can't see him letting Jim die so that I can see good.  I cannot believe in that kind of god.

And I can't/don't believe in a god who says, "OK, you prayed hard enough for this person....I will let him live."   Or "Hmmmm, it's too bad that you didn't pray hard enough, or get more people to pray.  Now I'm not going to let him live."

The God I believe is is not an egocentric, punitive God.  He is a God who loves me so much that He uses the horrible to do something good.  He loves me so much that He continues to bless me.  I may not see the blessings every day, but that doesn't mean they're not there. They are.  Always.

So enough of what I believe and don't believe.

Here's what I know:  I have met the most amazing people in my "after".  The women who are on this path next to me are incredible.  It's difficult to explain to the people who are not on this path.  And I pray that you never have to get on it.  But if you do, I hope that I can walk beside you.  I hope that I can be just a fraction of the support that these women have been for me.

These are both women I've met and women I have yet to meet in person.  

My Circle of friends is such a healing group of women.  They get me.  They support me.  They listen to me without thinking I need serious psychological help.  I can say anything I feel ... and they get it.  I love being with them and miss them when we're don't get together.

And that goes for certain friends that I've "met", but haven't met.  The women who share their walk with me by encouraging me with their comments.  We've never met but we've connected.

They share their lives and their experiences on their blogs and with their comments.  They are a blessing to me.

Neo, thank you so much for calling me tonight to just check on me.  For being a concerned friend.  For giving me your time.  For caring.  

I appreciate you.  And can't wait to spend some time with you!!

    

And now it is after 11:30 at night and I can't keep my eyes open.

Literally.

Have a good Thursday and thank you to those amazing women on this path who have commented.  

Good night.

Too busy

I have report cards due in the next few weeks. 
Work is hectic as we finish up assessing where the kids are at. 
Home is stressful as my own kids finish off assessments that their teacher need to assess (but DON'T get me started on teachers who allow assessments to be done at home in primary school and just how many parent's are earning their kids' grades).

I am busy pretty much all of the time right now.

....and while I am not stressed (at this stage), I am also so busy that I have not had any time to just sit and miss him.

I feel distant from him, when I had been feeling like he was so connected to us that I could almost feel him next to me.  I had been just starting conversations with him when I was alone, feeling like it was not a one-sided thing.

....and I need to get that feeling back before I crash and burn later....

I need to remind myself that I was (am) loved by the most remarkable man. 
A man who I trusted with my heart and soul. 
A man whose love for me was bigger than anything I can imagine.

So on the weekend, I will make a time between marking report cards and cleaning the house where I can go outside, sit in the sunshine and just be with my memories of Greg.
Where I can feel his hand on my shoulder and his whisper in my ear and remind myself that I am still loved.

Power

source

In my experience front loading washing machines are pieces of shit. The one I inherited from the previous homeowners was leaking water from the door the other day (obviously). When are these things not being problems? 

Maybe it was my recent return to single-land or maybe it was my stubborn streak, but I decided I would NOT hire someone (most likely a man) to fix that machine. I would do it MYSELF, dammit.

So, I used the internet to find out what was wrong, order the new part and replace the old one. It took several trips to Home Depot for the right clamps to get one component of the new part installed and tons of cursing, smashing fingers, a few tears of utter frustration and maybe $150. I probably wouldn't have paid much more if I'd hired someone and I'd have had it done faster and with no struggle on my part, but I did it myself and no amount of money can buy me that kind of power.

Losing Dave has threatened my sense of power in so many ways. It felt powerless to watch him die. It felt powerless to start a life without him. It felt powerless to call out for him when I most needed him, only to realize, a thousand times a day, that he was never coming back.

To feel power again is so important. To feel in control of something when so much is completely out of my control is a big deal. It's worth it and I don't feel it that often. I miss it.

But when I closed that washer door, turned on a cycle and sat back to watch my handiwork do its thing, I felt it. I felt the power of fixing something broken and making it right again. It's a washing machine, but I'll take what I can get.

I think this power thing is at the root of a lot of my struggles right now. Instead of righteous anger or a feeling of powerful strength within, I feel helpless and frustrated. And what do I do when I feel that way? I cry.

While I get that crying is not a sign of weakness, it does sometimes get old. Being flooded with emotions that force buckets of tears from my eyes makes me feel powerless and beyond rational thought. I'm all raw emotion and can't think straight.

Taking back some power might be nice. I don't quite know the path to this yet, but I imagine it's small triumphs like this one that will slowly slowly get me there.

Saying Goodbye.. Again

The last picture taken of me and my best friend.

A couple of weeks ago I wrote about my dog being diagnosed with cancer (I wrote about it here)

Tuesday, the day after my birthday I had to kill put my best friend to sleep.

I am in shock. I am devastated. Three weeks after his diagnoses he went from being fine to not eating and his eyes rolling back in his head.

Nine years and one day after my husband gave me Clifford for my birthday..  I had to let go.

I had to say goodbye.. again.

I wasn't ready to let go.. again.

Yet no matter how much I fought it or how much it hurt, I had no say in it.. again.

Piece by piece, day by day, moment by moment, I lose another piece of my husband. I lose another piece of my before life.

Step by step I walk through a more than ever empty home.

Just when it feels like I have nothing else to lose, I lose my best friend.

The friend that never cared what I look like. Never cared if I can’t manage to get out of bed or not. Never cared if I was deep in grief. He always loved me. Loved me more than he loved himself.

Three years later I am saying goodbye all over again.

Three years later I feel like I am starting all over.. again.

My husband dying piece by piece never gets easier.

Saying goodbye and moving forward never gets easier.

Pain

“Which do you want: the pain of staying where you are, or the pain of growth?”- Judith Lasater

 

I know that pain is inevitable.

In a way, it is something to be looked forward to.

But, damn, it still hurts.

Causes stress.

Doubt.

Fear.

But like building muscles, we must first be broken down to have the ability to come back stronger than we were before.

I've been reminded of that this past week, not so much in myself (though it is a ever-occurring thing), but in the externals.

With that discomfort has come moments of feeling drained, irritable, and STRESSED.

Basically, not feeling like the me I've acclimated to since turning the corner in my journey.

It's been a time where I've had to remind myself of what all of this "breaking down" is "building up" for in my life and endeavors.

It's painfully exciting.

Exhaustively necessary.

Overwhelmingly due.

Sometimes just typing it out is all I need to remember those facts.